


The Color of Family

by Thursday26



Series: True Colors [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), race to the edge - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Violence, Dragonese, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spitelout Bashing, Tags to be added, family violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-11 02:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday26/pseuds/Thursday26
Summary: Sequel to "The Color of Friendship"Where is Snotlout going in such a hurry? And what happens when he gets there?#TCoFa26#TCseries26This story would make more sense if you read the first part!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So some quick housekeeping before I get into anything specific! I have made a specific [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) account (@_Thursday_26), where I am hoping to keep you guys in a more real time update schedule on what I'm currently working on! Specific tags for works will be in the summaries of the works (along with tags for ongoing series). I Will create tags for current WIPs and future works (usually stuff that will require updates), but if you want a tag for a specific work, just ask! Onto the story stuff!!
> 
>  
> 
> the long awaited sequel! FInally!!! 
> 
> ...i'm sorry! It slipped my mind that the last part ended on such a cliff hanger and I've been working my butt off trying to get this story going and working on the seven other ones i have currently in the works! 
> 
> Now for the generic warnings in addition to the tags, this is not a good fic for Spitelout. If you like him, please avoid. This work will have the same tone/feel for the first part of the series. I will add character and other tags as the story is updated! 
> 
> OH! to make up for this being such a long overdue fic, I have 2 chapters for you guys! Please enjoy! 
> 
> OH 2.0! I almost forgot to mention! Even though that this is part of sarah's storry, in fact follows immediately after her work, it somehow slipped my mind that she was not working with Dragonese! But this fic has it! Just a heads up to you guys!

Snotlout knows that Hookfang is fast, it sometimes feels like his skin will rip off his face when they really get going, but he’s never really thought about how fast he is in relation to the other dragons. At least not with Hookfang when it comes to speed, specifically. Most of the time, when someone thinks of a fast dragon, they think of Toothless, of the elusive Night Fury. Hookfang is  _ fast _ , but he can’t really compare to a Night Fury. How does Hiccup handle speeds that fast? 

But that doesn’t matter. Snotlout can’t stop. Hiccup is going to make him turn back, but he can’t go back. There’s something so much more important on Berk. Snotlout’s already wasted so much time lying around, “recovering.” He needs to get back today, yesterday, last year! Any time before now! Now has to do, though, and he can’t waste a second more. 

As far as Snotlout is aware, life on the Edge returned to mostly to normal once he started showing signs of recovering, everyone taking shifts of patrol (with Snotlout off the roster, of course), but an added shift of hanging out with Snotlout added into rotation. Snotlout told them all it was unnecessary and excessive, but, secretly, he loves that his friends care so much for him. They wouldn’t have wasted so much of their potential free time if they didn’t care. Especially Astrid, who could squeeze in some extra training if she wasn’t at Snotlout’s side, antagonizing him whenever it’s her turn. She bugs him that he’s falling behind on his training and it'll be  _ even easier _ to kick his ass now. Fishlegs had to kick her out a few times, because Snotlout was ready to start some training again, just to prove that he could, even though he knows it’s too early. Astrid is never cowed, always coming back and working Snotlout up again. Snotlout appreciates not being treated like something breakable. 

Although, with the way he acted with Fishlegs... he can’t really blame their resident healer for thinking that he’s a little fragile. But it was only Fishlegs in the hut with him. They should be able to get a fair distance before anyone can catch them.

They are at face-tearing-off speed, towards Berk when he hears Hiccup yelling at him, still a little too far to make out the words, but getting closer. Snotlout almost growls. Hiccup was supposed to be on the other side of the island on patrol today. Meatlug isn’t that slow, but she isn’t that fast either. “Snotlout!” he hears behind him. Shit. Hiccup must have been closer to his hut than he thought. At least it will take Fishlegs longer to catch up to them. 

“Faster, Hookfang, faster,” Snotlout pleads, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rushing wind. Snotlout feels Hookfang push himself a little harder, his wings beating down harder, but it’s not much faster. 

“Snotlout!” Oh gods, he sounds so much closer.

“Hookfang,” he whispers, desperate.

“SNOTLOUT!” Hiccup yells, much closer now, echoed by Toothless’ roar. Hookfang starts to slow for some reason, growling unhappily as he does so. 

“No, Hookfang. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Snotlout begs, feeling a little hysterical. He looks over his shoulder and Hiccup is  _ right there _ , face thunderous. Behind him, there’s a much smaller dot that has to be Fishlegs. He feels a small twinge of guilt for making Hiccup and Fishlegs worrying them like this, especially after how they’ve taken care of him while he’s been recovering, but he  _ can’t stop _ . 

Hiccup and Toothless swing around, cutting in front of Hookfang and forcing the larger dragon to start hovering. Hookfang roars in annoyance at Toothless, loud enough that it makes Snotlout’s ears ring. He can’t imagine being on the other side of that roar. Toothless doesn’t appear to be cowed. In fact, he responds with his own roar, louder, and it rattles Snotlout’s bones. Hookfang quiets at that and doesn’t budge an inch, despite Snotlout leaning and trying to urge Hookfang to move. “Snotlout! What are you doing?” Hiccup shouts, as if he’s oblivious to the yelling match between the dragons, his attention solely on Snotlout. “You’re  _ recovering!” _

“I have to get back to Berk,” Snotlout yells back. 

Hiccup looks exasperated and angry. “A trip to Berk is going to do more harm than good right now! Give it a week and you can make a slow journey back!”

Snotlout shakes his head hard enough to hurt. “No! You don’t understand! I have to get back  _ now!” _

“You’re going to set back your recovery!” Hiccup’s voice goes high-pitched near the end, like he can’t believe that he has to say that. Toothless chimes in with his own screech. Snotlout isn’t sure if it’s meant for himself or Hookfang. 

“You don’t understand, Hiccup!” Snotlout leans harder to the left. “Go  _ around _ , Hookfang, please,” he whispers. 

Hookfang tries, starting to move to the left as well, but Toothless barks at him. It resonates through the air and echoes in Snotlout’s bones, kind of like the roar from earlier, but deeper and it stays far longer than what Snotlout would consider comfortable. If he were pressed, he would say that his bones are humming, but that can’t be true. But Hookfang stops moving in any direction, only moving enough to keep himself airborne. It’s kind of like before, but there’s a blankness to Hookfang now, like something has been sucked out of him. “Toothless!” Snotlout yells, appalled. He’s not sure what happened, but Toothless has done something and it isn’t right, especially if Snotlout can still feel it. 

The stormy look on Hiccup’s face clears for a moment, giving a worried look between the two dragons, but it returns when he looks to Snotlout again. “Snotlout, you have to understand–!” 

“I  _ do _ understand!” Snotlout cuts him off, face starting to heat with anger.  _ “You’re  _ the one who  _ doesn’t understand!” _

“Snotlout!” And that’s Fishface, nice and caught up now. Since when has Meatlug moved so fast? 

Snotlout doesn’t want to deal with him too, so he doesn’t even acknowledge him. “Let me go, Hiccup,” he growls. “You can’t stop me.” 

“Go back to the Edge,” Hiccup growls back, teeth bared. 

“Snotlout! What are you doing?! You’re still recovering!” Fishlegs yells, coming around to the side and hovering there. Meatlug looks a little out of breath, but still flying strong. She must have really pushed herself. 

Snotlout pointedly ignores the new pair, leaning over Hookfang’s horns, needing to catch his own breath. “I’m not going back to the Edge, Hiccup!” Snotlout snaps. 

“Why?” Fishlegs asks, coming closer to hover next to Toothless, to make it harder for Snotlout to ignore him. Meatlug looks uncomfortably between Toothless and Hookfang, but stays silent. Fishlegs’ face is soft and concerned and not at all what Snotlout needs in this moment because any anger ( _ righteous  _ anger) he’s feeling towards Hiccup fades with every moment he looks into Fishlegs’ soft eyes. Why is it so hard to stay mad at the giant nerd? “Snotlout,” Fishlegs says after a few tense moments of silence, “we want you at the Edge. We care about you.” 

It should be  _ illegal  _ for Fishlegs to look so soft and hurt. “That’s not why I’m not going back to the Edge,” Snotlout tells him, in a much softer tone than the one he used with Hiccup. “I can’t go back. Not yet.” They both watch him silently: Hiccup, shocked (probably because he’s not yelling Fishlegs’ face off), and Fishlegs with patience. 

“Why?” Fishlegs asks again, softer. 

Snotlout opens his mouth and shuts it again. He can’t blurt it out to them. It’s… personal. Fishlegs already knows more than he should, thanks to Snotlout’s little breakdown earlier. He knows that if he told them exactly why he has to go back, they would come with him, or, worse, want to do it for him. He can’t let them do that. This is something that he has to do for himself. “Something personal,” he finally says. 

“And it can’t wait?” Hiccup bites out. 

Snotlout inhales sharply at the tone, anger flooding through him again. Fishlegs glares at their leader. “No it can’t,” Snotlout responds with as much bite as Hiccup. 

“Why can’t it wait?” Fishlegs cuts in before they can start sniping at each other again. Damn him. The anger bleeds away again. That’s not fair at all. Fishlegs has to know that’s cheating. 

Snotlout tries to think of the best argument that he can make, but words are hard. And it’s unfair for Hiccup and Fishlegs to gang up on him. Those two are always going to beat him when it comes to words. Nerds. “It can’t wait,” Snotlout says, shoulders slumping. Yeah, he’s not good with words. 

Hiccup is starting to look really frustrated, but Fishlegs looks curious. Snotlout focuses his attention on Fishlegs. Maybe he can convince him. Hiccup doesn’t look like he’s willing to be moved. And maybe Snotlout won’t yell again. Yelling takes a lot of energy. “Why can’t it wait?” Fishlegs asks, calm as ever. 

Snotlout presses his lips together, glaring at Fishlegs, but it’s not as heated as he would like. Like he said, yelling takes a lot of energy, but he  _ is _ glaring. “Snotlout,” Fishlegs continues, gentle, “you could really get hurt if you stay out here too long. Your fever could come back. We were really, really,  _ really _ lucky there wasn’t more damage done. We don’t want you to risk yourself.” 

Snotlout looks down. The ocean isn’t calm today, but there aren’t any storms. Waves and small swells are in the water, the accompanying breeze cold over his bare arms. Snotlout wonders if some of the disturbed water is caused by their hovering. They aren’t that high above the water, which was probably a mistake on his part. A Hunter could have shot them down easily from this height. “I know,” Snotlout concedes, hands tightening on Hookfang’s horns. He takes a deep breath and looks at them again. “I  _ know _ that what I’m doing is dangerous–” both Riders look a little shocked at the admission and Snotlout will be offended by that later, “–but I have to go  _ now _ . Waiting around… isn’t an option right now.”

“Maybe if you explained what you needed to do, we could help,” Fishlegs suggests. And it’s rational. There’s no logical reason for Snotlout to deny his teammates knowing more, but he can’t tell them. He just  _ can’t. _

“I can’t tell you,” Snotlout says.

“Snotlout,” Hiccup sighs, sounding far more tired than angry right now. He’s rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Don’t push us away–”

“I’m not pushing you away,” Snotlout cuts in, ignoring the look that Hiccup gives him, “neither of you. But I can’t tell you what’s happening.” Fishlegs opens his mouth, but Snotlout doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “Please, you guys. You told me that you trusted me and cared for me, right?” 

“Of course,” Fishlegs says immediately. Hiccup nods along.

“Can you  _ please _ trust me with this then?” Snotlout begs. They both look startled at the question. Or maybe the fact that Snotlout is starting to crack a bit. They’re wasting so much time here. He can feel that his eyes are too wet (and it’s not from the breeze) and his face is twisted into something pathetic, but he can’t control it. “Can you both please, please,  _ please _ trust that I know what I’m doing is stupid and reckless. I  _ know that. _ But I’m not doing it to be a pain. I have to do it. I  _ have  _ to.”

There are a couple tense seconds of silence. Fishlegs and Hiccup look at one another, speaking without saying a word. Snotlout is too desperate to try and interpret whatever they are saying, or might be saying. 

Fishlegs is the one who breaks the silence, giving Snotlout a pleading look. “Snotlout… please. We want to help, but you have to tell us.” 

“I need to do this myself,” Snotlout insists. “If you guys want to help, support me. Don’t hinder me.” Hiccup and Fishlegs’ eyes go wide. “Sitting around waiting to get better is only going to make me worse, I promise you.” 

They both look conflicted now, turning to speak without words again. Snotlout waits, not that he has much of a choice, the humming in his bones reminding him that Hookfang can’t move.  “Snotlout,” Hiccup says, tired, “can’t it wait at least another day?” All the anger is gone from him. He looks oddly relaxed on Toothless’ back. 

Snotlout’s jaw tenses. “No.” The annoyance bubbling inside him feels startlingly close to anger. “I need to go back today. And if you force me back, I’ll take a boat. Whatever Toothless did to Hookfang isn’t going to stop me from getting to Berk as soon as I can.” He turns his anger to Toothless, glaring at the dragon straight in the eye. “I don’t care what you mean to Hiccup, if you hurt Hookfang…” he lets the threat trail off. Toothless is smart enough to get it without Snotlout saying it explicitly. And it appears that he does, because he flashes his teeth at Snotlout with a little snarl, as if daring Snotlout to try. Hiccup pats Toothless on the head, his snarl downgrading to a growl, and a heated glare fixed on Snotlout. 

“Is there anything we can do?” Fishlegs pleads.

“You two can accompany me to Berk,” Snotlout suggests, then adds, “make sure I don’t die on the way there.”

Fishlegs flinches at the mention of dying. Hiccup glares. “We’re really not going to be able to convince you to come back?” Hiccup asks.

“Nope,” Snotlout shakes his head. “Now you can come along, or you can try and get the rest of the cavalry. I don’t want to fight you, but I will.” Snotlout pauses for a moment, letting that sink in. Fishlegs’ shoulders have slumped and Hiccup looks to have aged a few years. “Are you joining me then?” 

They share another look then sigh at the same time.”Yeah,” Hiccup sounds exhausted. 

“Good,” Snotlout beams, adjusting his grip on Hookfang’s horns. “But you have to let me do what I need to do by myself,” he adds.

Hiccup’s jaw tenses. “How dangerous is it going to be?” Fishlegs asks. 

“Not at all,” Snotlout says quickly. And he’s not lying, it shouldn’t be dangerous at all. At least if Spitelout isn’t home. If he is home… well, Snotlout will figure out what to do then.

Hiccup sighs, “ _ Fine _ . Fine. We’ll accompany you to make sure you don’t  _ die.” _ Fishlegs sighs again, probably at the confrontational tone Hiccup has taken. There’s another moment of silence, then Toothless growls and chirps. 

Hookfang is moving before anyone can respond, Snotlout almost falling out of his saddle at the sudden movement, the strong grip he has on Hookfang’s horns the only thing keeping him from falling into the ocean. Hookfang is snarling and flying for Toothless with a single-mindedness that would be frightening if anyone had time to process it. He snaps at Toothless, who dodges large teeth easily and bats Hookfang’s snout with a snarl of his own. Hookfang barks at Toothless, but then it’s over. Toothless growls and glares at Hookfang once more, before turning and leading their convoy towards Berk. Hookfang falls into formation on Toothless’ left, Meatlug puttering along on Toothless’ free side. The Riders all look at one another, Hiccup and Snotlout sharing a significant look, wondering what the Hel just happened between their dragons.  

Snotlout only wonders for a moment, because that’s how long it takes for him to remember why he’s making this journey back to Berk. He knows it would be smarter to wait another day, Hel, another week, but he can’t wait another moment. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so scared. 

He hopes that he isn’t too late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, FINALLY. Snotlout gets where he's been wanting to go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I have added some more tags to this work! Some TWs for you guys!
> 
> Make sure to check out chapter 1! I posted two chapters today!
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS  
> Family/Domestic violence

“For some of the smartest people I know, you sure have shitty memories,” Snotlout spits at Hiccup and Fishlegs. They’ve landed on Berk, close to the village, but far enough away that they can argue without anyone overhearing. This wasn’t a conscious choice on Snotlout’s part. All he wanted to do was land and head off, but everyone started to follow him, and that wasn’t part of the deal. And Snotlout is not in the mood to have to deal with these two again. He’s exhausted, tiredness weighing down his muscles. It felt like it took forever for Berk to come into view on the horizon, then another forever to actually land.

“Don’t be like that, Snotlout,” Hiccup growls, frowning at Snotlout with everything he has.

Snotlout rolls his eyes. “We already went over this, Peg Leg. I do this  _ alone _ .”

Fishlegs jumps in before Hiccup can respond. Hiccup’s lip is curled in such a way that Snotlout is grateful that Fishlegs doesn’t give their leader a chance to speak. “Snotlout, we care about you. We can’t even follow you into Berk?”

Snotlout crosses his arms over his chest.  _ Yes _ , he wants to say, but he knows it sounds stupid. But he’s expecting some yelling and he doesn’t want to air all this garbage in front of them. This is still a  _ private _ matter. Fishlegs and Hiccup have no right to see it. “How can I trust that you won’t follow me further than ‘into Berk’?”

“So you’re asking us to trust you, but you can’t trust us?” Hiccup snaps, looking like he’s at the end of his rope. Snotlout doesn’t blame him for being so upset. He hasn’t made it any easier for the two to understand, and he knows he’s visibly leaning against Hookfang while they’re yelling at each other. He should be sitting down, no, lying down in bed, but he can’t stop now. He has to keep on going, already so close.

“I guess I am,” Snotlout grits out. He’s really tired of Hiccup making sense.

“How long is it going to take?” Fishlegs asks, sounding resigned.

“You’re going to let him go alone?!” Hiccup bursts out, incredulous.

Affection swells in Snotlout’s chest, but he doesn’t let it show. “Not long,” he answers, hopefully not lying. He has no idea how quick he’s going to be, but hopefully it is quick.

Fishlegs stares at Snotlout for a moment, looking conflicted, then sighs. He turns to Hiccup. “We can’t force him to stay and we can’t force him to take us along. He said it’s not going to take long. Let’s just… let’s wait for him. Trust him.”

Snotlout’s breath hitches. Fresh anger flares over Hiccup’s face and he turns completely towards Fishlegs before he opens his mouth. “Trust him?! He showed up on the Edge half-dead because I left him behind. I can’t just let him go off on his own again because he might not be so lucky next time!”

Snotlout wants to be offended that they’re talking about him like he’s not there, but something clicks in his mind. Hiccup is scared that Snotlout is about to go off and let Spitelout finish the job. Snotlout can’t exactly blame Hiccup for thinking that. Snotlout has a nasty habit of not thinking things through, but the more he learns about Hiccup, the more he thinks that it’s a family trait. But that’s not what’s important right now. “Please, Hiccup,” he begs, tension draining from his shoulders and his weight leaning more heavily against Hookfang. “I  _ need _ to do this alone. I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I promise that I’ll do whatever you say once I’m done. I’ll stay in bed for a week, I’ll take extra patrols, I’ll eat Tuffnut’s cooking! But I have to do this alone!” He can feel his eyes starting to sting, but there are no tears. Thank the gods.

Hiccup breathes twice through his nose, loud and sharp, then sighs, arms falling to his side. “Fine, you’re going to recover fully and not let Astrid goad you into stunting your recovery,” he huffs.

“Thank you, Hiccup,” Snotlout smiles. It’s only for a moment because then he remembers why he rushed back to the island, against healer’s orders. He nods to his teammates and turns towards Berk. He’s about to step across the line that marks the area they landed in and a more populated Berk when he realizes he’s being followed.

He turns, fully expecting to rip his teammates a new one, but it’s not them following him. It’s Hookfang. “Alone means I need you to stay behind too,” Snotlout says, shoulders slumped.

Hookfang jerks back, eyes wide.  _ “Brother not-can stand with no-Hookfang. Hookfang coming.” _

Snotlout’s mouth turns down. Why does he feel so awful telling Hookfang to stay behind? Maybe it has something to do with Hookfang’s tone, but his eyes start to sting again. “Don’t argue with me. I need to do this alone. And I don’t know if you noticed, I’m standing just fine on my own.” He holds his arms out as if to demonstrate this. Forget that he’s leaning to one side, as if there was something larger and dragon-y to lean against on that side not too long ago.

There’s a couple tense moments of silence.  _ “Snotlout confront sire,” _ Hookfang whispers in horror. Before Snotlout can deny that, Hookfang makes a high pitched distressed noise that rings Snotlout’s ears. “ _ Sire kill Snotlout! Hookfang going!” _

“I’m not going to confront my dad,” Snotlout says, rubbing his ear. At least that much is true. It would be idiotic to confront his dad when he can’t even lift an axe. If all goes well, he won’t even lay eyes on his father before he’s off island again.

_ “Snotlout only go alone when Snotlout with sire. Tell Hookfang leave. Make Hookfang break Vow.” _

“Hey,” Snotlout argues, eyes stinging more now, “I didn’t make you break your promise to me. You did that all on your own. I’m not going to see my dad!”

Hookfang jerks back like Snotlout slapped him. Not that slapping the dragon would hurt at all.  _ “Snotlout stubborn. Not stubborn as Hookfang. Hookfang going.” _

Snotlout appreciates what Hookfang is trying to do, but he  _ has to do this alone _ . It’s not an option. This is something Snotlout needs to do, by himself. The crappy thing is that Snotlout  _ wants  _ Hookfang to come, but he can’t. To his horror, he can feel tears falling down his cheeks. He looks at the ground, face burning. “Please, Hookfang. You have to stay  _ here _ .”

Silence falls between them, Snotlout still crying. He hopes that he’s far enough away from Hiccup and Fishlegs that they can’t see him like this. It’s so humiliating. Finally, Hookfang speaks, his voice cracking.  _ “Hookfang stay.” _ The agreement sounds like it was torn from some part deep inside Hookfang.

Snotlout doesn’t hesitate, turning and rushing away before Hookfang changes his mind. He only looks back long enough to make sure that Hookfang is still in place. After he’s sure that Hookfang has stayed behind, he doesn’t turn back. Instead he focuses on what he has to do next.

The Jorgenson Homestead isn’t too far away, but hopefully far away enough so that if there is yelling, the others won’t overhear them. It’ll be unavoidable for the neighbors to hear, but they’re probably used to hearing all the yelling by now. His muscles are screaming at him, begging him to take a break, but he pushes through. He can’t stop now. He has to keep on moving.

The exhaustion is starting to hurt more than his muscles. His lungs are protesting his movement and his joints are aching. He pushes through that, eyes locked on his house. He can’t fall into any temptation to take a break: he may not get up again.

Somehow, he’s able to burst into the house like he has some sort of energy. It doesn’t feel like he has any, but it sure looks like it with how hard the door slams open and how high his mother jumps. She fumbles with whatever she’s holding in her hands, somehow catching it before it clatters to the ground. “Snotlout!” she gasps, hand over her chest. “What are you doing here?” Snotlout wishes he could put his hand over his heart, like she is, but he has no energy to lift his arms. Any energy he has is being used to keep him upright. Although that doesn’t stop him from leaning against a wall and breathing hard. There’s something like relief at seeing his mother, safe and sound, but he can’t relax yet.

“Is Dad home?” he gasps, looking around the room. He can’t relax yet. “Is he here?”

She gives him a confused look. “No… he’s… running an errand,” she tells him. Then there’s a spark in her eye and her voice drops to a whisper, her face twisting with worry. “You can’t be here, Snotlout. He’s still upset with you for you running out on your punishment.” Her grip tightens on what she has in her hands. Snotlout realizes that it’s a plate. “And he’s really upset that you destroyed his Iron Root.”

That doesn’t surprise him. Not in the least. Spitelout is always upset with him for something or other. Usually for not listening to him, or not taking punishment properly, or just by doing something that Spitelout doesn’t like. It’s exhausting. Now that he thinks about it, has he ever done something that didn’t upset his father? Has he ever been able to act knowing for sure that his father wouldn’t be upset? His heart twists in his chest when he thinks of an answer, but he can’t focus on that right now. There’s something else that needs his attention. “Come with me, Ma,” Snotlout says, pushing away from the wall and walking towards her (or, more accurately, stumbling in her direction), “come with me to the Edge.”

The worry on her face disappears, replaced with honest confusion. “What? Why?”

Snotlout swallows heavily, throat dry. “You’ll be safe there.”

She jerks back in surprise, taking a step back as well, the plate coming up between them. “Safe?” she asks, chuckling awkwardly. “I’m safe here. Why would I leave?”

Snotlout stopped in his tracks when Ma took a step back. He doesn’t want to scare her, or crowd her. Thankfully, he’s stopped next to the table and can lean on it. Snotlout’s breathing is picking up though. He doesn’t want to be here any longer. Another moment is another moment closer to Spitelout coming home. “Dad…” Snotlout takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, “…Dad’s a monster, Ma. He’s dangerous.”

Her eyes flash with anger, but she still looks confused. And she doesn’t lower the plate between them. It reminds Snotlout of a shield. “Danger?” she repeats, her voice fluctuating from loud to quiet. “Don’t—! Don’t you say such things about your father!” she snaps, cheeks flushing. She drops her arms with force, but keeps both hands on the plate. “How can you say something like that about your  _ own father!” _ She’s yelling too loudly, like she’s making sure that someone else further away can hear her. Her face looks angry, but her eyes look scared. Terrified. Why would she be scared?

Snotlout’s eyes go wide in realization, his mouth falling open. She’s scared of Spitelout. “He… he beats you, Ma?” he croaks out, his heart breaking. Spitelout isn’t even  _ here _ and she’s scared of being hurt by him. How could Snotlout miss that? How could he not see it sooner? “He beats me!” he adds, voice getting higher. “What kind of man beats women and children?!”

She sighs and rolls her eyes, shoulders lowering but still tense. To anyone else, she may seem relaxed or tired. But Snotlout isn’t anyone else. “He doesn’t  _ beat _ me,” she says, her emphasis on ‘beat’ making it sound like a ridiculous notion. She sniffs and looks down at the plate in her hands. She takes a breath and it looks like it takes effort for her to put it down on the counter. “He’s  _ helping _ me be a better wife.” Snotlout doesn’t know if she’s trying to convince him. Her hand hovers over the plate for a moment then she forces it to her side. It only takes a moment for her to grip onto her apron with both hands, hard enough that her knuckles turn white. “And you know he only punishes you because he loves you.” She gives him a soft look. “He wants you to be  _ better _ , he wants  _ us _ to be better.” Her voice started to waver near the end. She takes another deep breath. “And he cares enough to try.”

Snotlout might have believed that  _ she _ believed what she’s saying, but her voice cracks on ‘try.’ He opens his mouth, trying to respond, but he can’t think of the right words. He may not believe that she believes her own words, but it’s hard not to agree with her… Spitelout has only ever punished Snotlout when he’s deserved it. “Besides, honey,” his mother continues, voice light, “you are too young to understand.” Snotlout’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “When you have a wife one day, and a child, you’ll understand why your father does what he does.”

That thought turns Snotlout’s blood to ice. He imagines giving the same punishments to someone much smaller than himself. He imagines beating Gustav, breaking out the Iron Root, when Snotlout had accepted Gustav as a trade for those blasted eggs. Gustav was so  _ tiny _ . He would have broken under the same treatment, snapped in half under the blows. Gustav wasn’t the best kid, Hel he still annoys Snotlout on a good day, but it never occurred to Snotlout to try to do the same as what Spitelout has done to him. Like that, Snotlout remembers why he’s here, and why he doesn’t agree with his mother. “No, Ma,” Snotlout states, firm. “What Dad does to us is not okay. Not by anyone’s standard.”

She sighs again, sounding tired. She looks at him again, her shoulders slumped and mouth turned down. “You  _ are _ too young to understand, Snotlout,” she repeats sadly, “but you  _ should _ leave before your father comes home. He won’t take too kindly to seeing you here.”

Snotlout can’t believe his ears. It takes him a moment to be able to speak again. “I almost died, Ma,” he whispers. 

She freezes, her eyes filling with disbelief and horror, but she stays quiet. Snotlout is so scared. Admitting that in front of his mother… the reality of how dire a situation he was in (by Spitelout’s hand!) hitting him all at once. Snotlout’s chest hurts. “I almost died from what he did to me,” he says, voice cracking. It hurts something deeper inside him to admit that his own father nearly killed him.

Her face shutters. “I’m sure it wasn’t…” But she can’t finish.

“I can barely walk now. It’s taking everything I have to stay upright, but I couldn’t leave you here, not for a second more.” Snotlout can feel himself starting to cry. And it’s horrifying for a different reason than when he cried in front of Hookfang. “Please, Ma,” he begs. “Please come with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

Her eyes are full of doubt and she’s twisting her apron in her hands, uncertain. She’s not looking away from him though. It’s almost like she’s seeing him for the first time, really seeing the state that he’s in and that she’s having trouble reconciling that her husband caused the damage that she sees to their only son. Snotlout is daring to hope that she may agree to leave with him, when the kitchen door heaves open and heavy footsteps stomp over the floor.

They both freeze and his mother’s eyes fill with such terror that Snotlout wishes that he would have waited another week, so that he could fight Spitelout if it came down to that. Snotlout doesn’t look away from his ma. He watches the terror fill her face, and continue to stay there the closer he gets to her. Every step Spitelout takes towards her, Snotlout can see her shoulders tensing up. 

“Trying to make my wife leave me, boyo?” Spitelout asks, voice even. Only then does Snotlout look at his father. 

Spitelout is staring him straight in the eye, an unimpressed look on his face. He steps up behind his wife and Snotlout can hear her inhale sharply then it looks like she’s holding her breath, like she’s bracing for something. Snotlout stands straighter, pushing his shoulders back despite his muscles crying out ‘why?’ and he refuses to break eye contact. He won’t give Spitelout the satisfaction of seeing him scared. Spitelout’s face is hard and his eyes are cold, not in line at all with his casual tone. Snotlout is no stranger to seeing that expression on Spitelout’s face and it still sends a chill of fear through him, but he refuses to back down. “She’s not safe here,” Snotlout says, surprisingly firm, despite the fact that his knees are starting to shake. From fear or exhaustion? Snotlout couldn’t say.

“Not safe?” Snotlout echoes, mouth stretching into a parody of a smile, although there is genuine amusement in his voice. He looks to his wife, who, in the time that her son and husband were staring each other down, has made herself busy, taking a step away from Spitelout and wiping down the counter. Her back is to the both of them now. She looks so small. It could be any normal day in the Jorgenson household. Snotlout has to swallow again when he realizes that fear is normal in this house. Snotlout can see Spitelout’s head move, so he looks back at his father. Spitelout is smiling at him, far too many teeth on display. “You think that I don’t provide for my wife? That I can’t keep her  _ safe _ from whatever danger that could come?” The silence that falls afterwards is suffocating.

Snotlout has to take a deep breath, hoping that it masks how he’s started to shake. Spitelout staying quiet is just as scary as him yelling as loud as he can. That being said, Snotlout came here for a reason. And he’s not about to be cowed by Spitelout being quiet. “ _ You’re _ not safe.” Spitelout’s eyes go wide at the accusation. There’s a mixture of anger and fear in Snotlout’s chest. Anger that Spitelout is surprised and fear that Spitelout is going to react poorly. Snotlout takes another deep breath. “ _ You’re _ a danger to her.”

That mockery of a smile falls off Spitelout’s face, but there are too many teeth on display. “How  _ dare _ you say that to me,” he says, rage filtering into his voice and rising with every word, “after everything I’ve done for you!”

There’s a part of Snotlout, the little kid inside who knows intimately just how dangerous that tone is, how painful that tone is when it’s carved into his skin, which wants to cry and run, maybe beg forgiveness for his thoughtless words. But they aren’t thoughtless words. He didn’t come here on a whim. He can’t run away. He can’t leave, not without his ma. Snotlout stands as firm as he can, shuffling his feet so they’re shoulder-width apart and pushing his shoulders even further back. “What you  _ did for me?” _ Snotlout asks, sarcasm woven through his words. He can almost feel a hysterical laugh bubbling inside him at the thought that Snotlout should be  _ grateful _ for the way Spitelout has acted. “You  _ beat me _ ! For being a kid!”

“I  _ punished _ you,” Spitelout argues, voice loud but also getting louder, “for being an  _ insolent brat!” _

“There are other ways!” Snotlout yells, every part of his being that is hurt and angry going into his voice. Every part of him that always wanted to cry after the punishment, but had to swallow his tears; every part of him that didn’t understand why his dad  _ hurt him _ so much; every part of him that wondered, late into the night, wounds still fresh and angry voices echoing in his head, if his father ever truly loved him at all.

Spitelout guffaws, the sound odd enough that it startles Snotlout and his ma. He has a genuine smile of amusement on his face. He doesn’t look angry, but Snotlout knows better than to trust Spitelout’s smiling face. “Where’d ye hear that?” he asks, chuckling and wiping his hand over his mouth. “Was it that Haddock kid?”

Snotlout’s teeth click together. Hiccup  _ has  _ told him so, but so have the other riders. If it were only Hiccup saying so, he might have not listened—no, why should it being Hiccup mean anything? Hiccup is a good, strong leader, smart and capable. Spitelout shouldn’t dismiss Hiccup just because he’s ‘that Haddock kid.’ But it isn’t just Hiccup saying so! It’s all the other riders as well. Maybe Spitelout is wrong about the Haddocks. Maybe his da is just  _ wrong. _

“What would  _ he _ know about having a wife,” Spitelout goes on, “or a mother?” He shakes his head dismissively, scoffing. “Maybe if Stoick treated his wife right, she wouldn’t have been taken by the dragons.” Snotlout’s mouth falls open.  “Maybe if Stoick did a better job of keeping his wife in line she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try and do the man’s job in that raid.”

“Stoick’s wife was your sister,” Snotlout whispers in horror. The familial connection isn’t a secret or anything, but to think that Spitelout would encourage Stoick, who is so much stronger than Spitelout, despite everything Spitelout says, to beat his wife, Spitelout’s own blood kin, the same way, or worse, makes Snotlout’s stomach turn. But the worst of it, the worst of hearing Spitelout condone his own sister being beaten regularly, is the knowledge that there was a time when Snotlout would have thought Spitelout’s words an appropriate comment to make. He might have believed those words, too.

Spitelout steps close to his wife, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t see, or he doesn’t care, that she tenses under his touch, but Snotlout can see the rigid line of her back. Spitelout’s shoulders are pushed back and his chest is puffed out. Snotlout hates that he thinks that his father looks so intimidatingly big in that moment. “ _ I _ take care of my things,” he declares, “like my wife.” He nods decisively. “I wouldn’t listen to that Haddock boy if I were you. He might be the chief’s son, but that weaselly little kid wouldn’t understand strength if it punched him in the nose! He’s too soft! A real man is strong!” He pauses his rant, face turning red. “You’re  _ weak, _ Snotlout.”

A few days ago, that comment might have cut him right to the bone. But today, it barely grazes his skin.  _ Snotlout _ is the one who has fought back from death and his way here to save his ma. That isn’t weakness. And if being like Spitelout is being strong, he’d rather be weak. “I’m not here for me,” Snotlout says calmly. “I’m here for Ma.” He watches the anger swirl and morph into hatred on Spitelout’s face. “ _ Real men _ don’t beat their wives,” Snotlout adds.

Spitelout scoffs again, the hatred cooling off as he looks away first and forcing a laugh from his chest. He isn’t looking away because he’s conceding. He’s looking away because he thinks Snotlout is being ridiculous. “Was that another lesson you learned from the  _ precious Haddock?” _ His voice gets squeaky on ‘precious Haddock.’ “Or did you learn that from that uppity Hofferson girl,” he snarls, “who could stand to be taken down a peg or two?”

Rage burns through Snotlout. “DON’T YOU SAY THAT ABOUT ASTRID!” He doesn’t know where the rage comes from, but Snotlout refuses to stand by while his own father continues to tear down his friends.

Spitelout groans, still the worldly father giving advice. He’s still holding onto his wife, as if they are a partnered front with this advice. “I know you fancy the girl, boyo, but Astrid is not good wife material. She’s too outspoken.”

Snotlout seethes and takes a heavy breath. This isn’t about Astrid right now, although it takes everything in him not to protect her honor. There are other things that need to get done. First, he needs to get Ma out of here, then he has to get her far away from here. Later, when Ma is safe, he can deal with Spitelout’s opinion of Astrid. Or he can share Spitelout’s thoughts with Astrid and let her deal with him herself. “Don’t… don’t talk about her like that,” Snotlout repeats, unable to stop his voice from trembling with rage. Astrid has been nothing less than an amazing friend throughout Snotlout’s recovery. She doesn’t deserve to have her reputation sullied by a wife beater.

Spitelout’s genial mask falls away. “I protect what’s mine.” He releases his wife’s shoulder and takes a couple long steps to stand in front of Snotlout. He places a heavy hand on Snotlout’s shoulder, fingers digging into the flesh. “And you’re trying to take it from me,” he growls.

Snotlout gulps. Suddenly, he’s seven years old again, trembling and so scared of his father, shaking with the terror and the mantra running through his head of ‘he’s so much bigger than me’ going on a loop. Snotlout has to fight not to defer, to duck his head from the glare Spitelout is giving him. Spitelout is wrong. He’s  _ wrong. _ “She’s more than a thing,” he croaks. Any part of him that’s not fighting the instinctive desire to concede is focused on the death grip Spitelout has on his shoulder. It feels like the fingers are trying to dig into bone. Snotlout feels one of the wounds on his shoulder reopen and he prays he won’t bleed through his shirt.

Ma spins, a smile on her face. Snotlout stares at her in bewilderment. Her smile is too wide, too fake, too eager… and he wonders how he never saw it before. How he never saw how she’s tried to protect him before, how she’s tried to defend him from Spitelout in her own way. He has to repay her. She steps up to them, trying to set herself between the two men, on Spitelout’s free side. She’s got the widest smile turned up to Spitelout. “Honey,” she says, far too eager, “why don’t we go—“

_ SLAP. _

A startled cry from her, cut off quickly because Spitelout hates it when they cry out. “Don’t interrupt me,” Spitelout says, calm. Commanding. Cold trickles down Snotlout’s spine, a reflex to that tone Ma knows it too. She’s hunched, hands on her reddening cheek, and shaking with silent sobs. Snotlout can’t stand to see her hurt like this. He stares up at Spitelout, any fear inside him gone. For the first time in his life, he feels truly defiant. “What are you blubbering about now?” he sneers towards her, releasing Snotlout to tower over her. Ma shuffles away, drawing Spitelout with her.

It’s like a veil falling away. Snotlout can see what everyone else sees: the man who’s made himself unbearable, the man whom no one wants to be around, the man whose very name makes people cringe. And it’s not what Snotlout wants. For his whole life, he’s idolized Spitelout, desired the same respect and command Spitelout appeared to carry, but it was all an illusion. This monster, this beast that towers over cowering women, that doesn’t see anything wrong with his whole family being scared of him, is not something to be idolized.

Snotlout straightens his spin. His father may well disown him, strip him of the Jorgenson name, but maybe that isn’t a bad thing, with what his father has turned that name into. Snotlout squares his shoulders, ignoring the pain from the movement. This isn’t his father, not anymore. He’s made himself into a monster. Snotlout has fought monsters before, and he’s won.

And he won’t let him hurt her again.

“It’s not honorable to beat your wife for ‘being too outspoken,’” he declares, stepping around his mother and making sure that he’s between them. Snotlout raises his voice. “You’re a monster.”

“A monster?!” Spitelout yells, leaning over Snotlout, forcing him to look straight up. Snotlout refuses to flinch or cower at the ugly twist of Spitelout’s face. “How  _ dare _ you!” He’s spitting on Snotlout’s face from yelling so loud. Snotlout still doesn’t flinch. The lack of fear appears to make Spitelout stumble a bit, but if Snotlout weren’t so close, he wouldn’t have seen it. “You’re an ungrateful brat!” Still nothing. “I should’ve exposed you when you were still a babe,” he snarls.

Snotlout doesn’t let his hurt show. He doesn’t want it to hurt, he knows it shouldn’t hurt, but there is still part of him that wants to make his father proud. That part still yearns for Spitelout’s approval, the one that’s been beaten, torn, and yelled at more than any of the other parts, yet there’s still childish hope that his da doesn’t mean his words. That he really means it when he says that he cares for Snotlout. With effort, Snotlout turns his attention from his father’s face and looks to his ma. She’s pale and watching them with fear-filled eyes, her hands holding her apron tightly again. “Come with me, Ma,” he pleads, very aware that his back is turned to the enemy. “I’ll protect you.” Her eyes flicker to his. “You won’t have to be scared anymore.”

Because he isn’t looking, the shove he gets from Spitelout is a surprise. He stumbles for several steps, his leg muscles protesting the jarring movement, but he stays standing. “You ungrateful brat!” Spitelout roars. “You think you’re a man?! How dare you come into  _ my house _ and accuse me of being a monster!”

Snotlout turns, knowing better than to keep his back to Spitelout again. Spitelout’s face is bright red with fury, spit flying from his mouth like flames. There’s a moment of tense silence, the only sound being Spitelout’s heavy breathing. He sounds like a yak that’s about to rampage. Then he charges Snotlout, with an accuracy that Snotlout has only seen him use in fights. “I’ll show you a monster!” he screams, grabbing onto Snotlout’s shirt and raising his other in a fist. Snotlout is still too hurt to fight back, or really run. It all happens too fast. Spitelout’s first comes down and Snotlout cries out in terror, ducking instinctively. There’s a loud crunch and thud as Spitelout’s fist connects with Snotlout’s helmet.

The force of his helmet hitting his head hurts a bit, but that pain is nothing compared to the agonized bellow that rips free from Spitelout. Spitelout jerks back, cradling his fist in his hand, releasing Snotlout’s shirt in the process. “You little shit!” he screams through the pained shouts, but Snotlout ignores him, already moving. There isn’t much time before Spitelout recovers himself to try again. Snotlout doubts he’ll miss.

Snotlout dodges around Spitelout, adrenaline allowing him to move more smoothly than he thought he could in this state. He rushes to his ma’s side, somehow steadier than when he showed up. She’s pale and staring at Spitelout, who is still screaming curses towards Snotlout. “Please, Ma. Please come with me,” he begs, reaching for her.

Her eyes snap to him and she scrambles backwards, away from his touch and shaking her head hard enough that’s probably making herself dizzy. It doesn’t take long for her gaze to fix on Snotlout again, and it breaks Snotlout’s heart to see the fear and the tears in her eyes. “Ma, please! Please come with me!” He checks over his shoulder. Spitelout is holding onto his right wrist with his left hand, trying to move his right hand. The movements are jerky and painful, but there’s movement. Snotlout knows he doesn’t have much time. “Please. Please, Ma. Please.”

She shakes her head, stumbling backwards until her back hits a wall. Even then she continues to press into the wall, like she can get away from Snotlout through solid wood by sheer will alone. “No… no I can’t… I’m not ungrateful…”

That stings and Snotlout can feel tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t have time for that right now. He hears Spitelout stomping towards them. He has to go. Spitelout won’t stop this time. With one, last, sorrowful look towards his mother, he runs for the door. “I promise to protect you, Ma! I’ll be back!” he calls over his shoulder, pushing all his energy into getting to the door first.

Snotlout has always feared his father, always been scared to disappoint him or upset him, but he’s never feared for his life before. Even in the worst of his punishments, he never believed his father would kill him. But, in this moment, he knows that if Spitelout gets his hands on him, he’ll kill him. He moves just in time, feeling Spitelout’s fingers brush over the fabric of his vest. Another second and he would be dead. Spitelout is so much closer than Snotlout thought. Now he needs to run.

With a burst of speed, Snotlout rushes out the door, running as fast as his legs can carry him, sometimes stumbling, but never stopping or slowing down. He slows a little away from the house, only enough to check over his shoulder when he feels like he’s not being chased anymore. Spitelout is standing in the doorway of his house, injured hand cradled to his chest, livid. Snotlout still doesn’t stop. “Don’t you dare come back, Snotlout! Don’t you dare call yourself a Jorgenson! You’re a disgrace!” he yells after Snotlout. He doesn’t seem to care that people are watching them. It’s not dark yet, so there’s still a fair amount of people outside. They stop to see the scene unfold, Snotlout almost running into some of them in his haste to escape. “You’re not a Jorgenson anymore, you hear?! You’re no son of mine!”

Snotlout can barely breathe, his eyes filling with tears and his muscles screaming in pain. “Hookfang!” he cries out, voice cracking from how he has to force the sounds out. In the next moment, Hookfang is there, scooping him up and flying off. Snotlout, in Hookfang’s claws, turns to see his childhood home get smaller. He starts to sob when he can’t see the house anymore.

He failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos always welcome!
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)! @_Thursday_26 for all the inside scoop!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stoick has some chiefing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo.... i realized that this is also ready for an update and here we are! I'll check the tags and whatnot, but i'm pretty sure nothing needs to be added, except maybe characters? I will do that immediately tho
> 
> I'm so sorry for the wait, i was trying to get the new chapter of Dragon Fights out but this one still gets my love! <3

It doesn’t take long for the news of the Jorgenson fight to reach Stoick. Gossip travels fast in this village. 

The news reaches him moments before Gobber does. He looks out of breath, like he ran straight from the smithy to the docks. Stoick has spent most of the day dealing with traders here, unofficially leaving Gobber in charge of the goings-ons in the middle of the village. Stoick has heard of the fight through whispers amongst some of the Berk men, Stoick listening to their gossip peripherally. The Jorgensons getting into fights is not news, or it isn't usually. Not until Stoick sees Gobber stumbling to the docks as fast as he can. 

A heavy stone settles in Stoick’s gut when he sees Gobber’s expression. It’s part fear, part desperation. Something truly awful must have happened, and it’s only blind faith that he doesn’t assume that it’s Hiccup that’s been hurt. He’d hope that Astrid or another rider would come to him directly and not let gossip reach him first. 

"Stoick!" Gobber yells, even though Stoick is already looking at him. He catches the attention of everyone else on the docks. He huffs and takes a moment to breathe, but he still speaks before he’s caught his breath, "It’s Snotlout." 

"Snotlout?" Stoick asks, a new type of fear running through him. There may not be any love lost between Stoick and his brother-in-law, but he cares about his nephew. Gobber’s breathless declaration coupled with the news of the Jorgenson fight? Gods, Stoick hopes that Spitelout didn’t kill his only son. 

"There was a fight! Snotlout and Spitelout, Stoick!" Gobber takes another couple of breaths, finally catching his breath enough to speak without a hitch in his voice. "Spitelout disowned Snotlout." 

Stoick has a moment to wonder if he heard his friend right, not truly believing it. Spitelout has always been inordinately proud of his son and has a Nadder’s focus on preserving his family name. Disowning someone, regardless of the reason, is such a stain on the family tree. He can’t believe Spitelout would do such a thing. "Spitelout?" Stoick has to ask. 

Gobber nods. "Aye. He did it outside his house. Snotlout was running away." He takes another deep breath then adds seriously, "At least a dozen witnesses." 

Stoick is moving before Gobber finishes his sentence. Anger is flowing through him. What did that monster do to his son now? The Jorgensons have always been somewhat of a stain on Berk, to put it harshly. Stoick has heard the complaints of the neighbors, seen Snotlout show up to meetings injured when there is no reasonable explanation for it, and watched Spitelout’s wife, Asa, slowly lose the light in her eye. But Stoick hasn’t been able to do anything. He talks to Asa, begged her to tell him why her face is bruised, or why she can’t sit without it hurting, but she’s tight-lipped, polite, and as pleasant as always. Snotlout is a harder nut to crack, the way he worships the ground Spitelout walks on. And Stoick has been forced to sit back and watch Spitelout slowly turn his family into complacent shells. 

He has a moment of gratitude that Valka isn’t around to see her brother like this. 

Stoick is striding through the village as fast as he can, Gobber jogging behind him without a word, the only noise he’s making the huffing as he tries to keep up. Stoick should turn Gobber away; this is a task for the chief and the chief alone. But Gobber has tried so hard to help Asa. He’s paid extra attention to the family and told Stoick when he should do something about Spitelout, like maybe sending him on a mission that’ll take a few weeks to complete. Gobber has also been the one who has dealt with the aftermath of Snotlout’s anger whenever it’s been directed at Hiccup. Stoick can’t prevent his friend from coming this time, even if he should. 

He bangs on the Jorgensons’ door, the poor wood protesting under the treatment. The door swings open mid-knock and Stoick hates that Asa is the first one to see his face. She flinches from him and looks at the floor. "Stoick! What brings you by?" she asks, voice light, but there’s a quaver underneath it.

Stoick forces his face to soften: Asa doesn’t deserve his anger. She probably gets enough of Spitelout’s anyway. "I need to speak with your husband," he tells her softly.

She looks up at him in surprise then checks over her shoulder, shutting the door a little more in the same movement and looking at the floor again. "I-I'm sorry, sir. Th-This isn’t a  good time."

It takes everything Stoick has not to wrap the poor lass in his arms and take her away from this place. Gobber makes a noise behind him, but he doesn’t turn away from her. "I'm sorry, lass, but I must insist."

She doesn’t look up at him. Stoick can see her start to tremble. "O-Okay… come in, please." She opens the door and the two of them step inside. She offers a soft greeting to Gobber as well.

Stoick doesn’t hear what Gobber says because he’s shocked at the state of the house. It looks trashed. Chairs are tipped over and decorations are thrown about or completely ruined. Asa rushes to the kitchen and rights the table and two chairs with a speed that reeks of desperation. "Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" Her voice is wavering and she’s wringing her hands in front of her stomach. 

Stoick shakes his head. "No, lass. Thank you." 

She nods and shuffles away, as if reluctant. "I’ll… get Spitelout," she says and pauses for a moment. Stoick wishes he had asked for that drink, but it would have only postponed the inevitable. She darts off after that pause like a skittish animal.

Gobber looks around the house in disgust. "He trashed his house, Stoick. She must have been terrified."

Stoick rubs his forehead. "I know, Gobber." He looks around the house again, trying to imagine the amount of rage he would have to feel to destroy his own house. He can’t even imagine what sort of rage that is. And thinking about it forces him to think about Hiccup. Little Hiccup, when he was fragile and bruised easily. He imagines how his son would cower, watching with wide eyes at his father’s rage. He imagines Valka, just as scared, wrapping herself around their son to protect him. It hurts to imagine his family so scared of him. He knows Valka would toss him out on his arse with the first overturned table, but what man doesn’t ache to think that his family is scared of him? 

He doesn’t have much more time to think before he hears Spitelout. He doesn’t hear Spitelout’s footsteps; no, Spitelout is yelling. The walls are so thick, Stoick can’t imagine the volume he’s at inside the room if he can hear Spitelout out here. " _ What did I say about waking me up!? _ " Stoick hears. Gobber looks towards the noise, like he wants to go towards it, a desperate look on his face. Asa’s response is muffled, but Stoick swears he can hear how desperate she is. He swears he can see the unsteadiness in her voice. 

Spitelout makes another noise and then there’s stomping. Those stomping feet don’t take long to reach the kitchen, Spitelout entering the main space looking ruffled and exhausted. "It’s not a good time, Stoick," he says in lieu of a greeting, not even looking in Stoick’s direction. 

Rage burns through Stoick at his brother-in-law’s calm tone. He shoots to his feet, the movement knocking over his chair. "Don’t start with me, Spitelout," Stoick snaps, getting in Spitelout’s face. "You know damn well why I'm here."

He can see Asa cowering behind Spitelout, but that isn’t going to stop Stoick from giving the man a dressing down. He needs to be taught a lesson. Spitelout frowns. "No, I don’t ‘damn well’ know why you’re here," he says, leaning in closer to Stoick’s face. "As I recall, we didn’t have a meeting scheduled." 

Stoick is so incensed by now that he may start on fire, Nightmare style. "Don’t play dumb with me, Jorgenson," he growls, dangerous.

Spitelout huffs, taking a step back and giving an amused look to the ceiling. "I can’t think of any reason you would be here, other than a social visit." He drops his gaze to Gobber, glaring at him with the corner of his mouth upturned. "After all, you’ve brought your bikja with you." 

Gobber stands, his chair clattering behind him. Stoick takes a couple of quick steps, putting himself between the two, hand on Gobber’s chest, holding him back. "What did you call me?!" Gobber yells, pushing against Stoick, trying to get past him. "I dare you to say it again! I’ll skin you and use your hide for leather!" 

Spitelout laughs. "Bikja," he repeats. And Stoick steps aside, letting Gobber go. Even he can’t prevent a man from defending his own honor.

Spitelout doesn’t seem to expect that, eyes going comically wide before Gobber clubs Spitelout in the jaw with his flesh hand. Spitelout drops, hard. Gobber pulls back to deliver another blow, shoulders still tense with rage, but a scream from Asa stops him. 

Gobber freezes in place and snaps his attention to her. She has her hands over her mouth, watching the scene with wide, tear-filled eyes. Stoick pulls Gobber back after a moment, snapping him out of his frozen state. Stoick takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to swallow the disappointment that the punishment Gobber gave was in no way fit. "That’s enough," he grits out, "for now." He drags Gobber a few steps away and speaks to him in a low tone, "I have another matter to discuss with him." Gobber takes a deep breath through his nose and nods, adding a few extra steps between him and Spitelout. Stoick appreciates the movement, knowing that Gobber could be easily provoked into attacking Spitelout again. Stoick wants to lay into Spitelout as well, but as chief, he has to take a different approach. 

Spitelout is groaning on the floor, starting to come around. Stoick has an awful moment where he wishes that Gobber had killed him, that Gobber had finally stopped this man from hurting anyone ever again. Asa is kneeling next to Spitelout, fussing over his rapidly-bruising face. Stoick steps over him, waiting for Spitelout to focus on his face. He’s not above looming over Spitelout, like he’s prepared to discipline a wayward child. Spitelout’s eyes flutter open eventually and focus on Stoick. "You know why I'm here. Don’t think you can disown your own son and not have me know," Stoick growls. 

Spitelout bares his teeth, which are covered in blood. "That’s a private matter, Stoick. You have no say in what I do with my family."

Stoick’s jaw clenches. It’s true. He only has so much authority for what he can do in a family’s private matter. Still, there is work for him to do here. "When you disown someone, they aren’t part of your family anymore. That’s why I'm here. As chief, I need to know who is being disowned and why, so I can exile them if necessary." 

Spitelout’s eyes light up and he sits a little higher. "Exile the boy, Stoick. He’s a disloyal, ungrateful brute. He’s going to betray Berk. I know it." 

If Stoick were a worse man, he would stomp as hard as he could on that face. But he’s a better man, so he can only glare. "How could you say that about your own kin? Have you no honor?"

Spitelout’s face grows worried. As it should. How could Stoick possibly trust a man that has no issue with denouncing his own family with anything important in the future? Spitelout seems to be picking up on that. "You don’t understand, Stoick," Spitelout pleads, getting to his feet. "I came home and heard the boy begging my wife to leave me. To run away with him, from me." 

Stoick’s fists clench at his sides. He hates this. He hates that a man can respond to a threat to his marriage in whatever way he sees fit, regardless of the circumstances surrounding it. That rule, that law, is about protecting a wife’s honor and meant to prevent low-lifes from taking advantage of married women. It’s meant to be an extra measure of protection, another layer over her husband’s vows. Normally, it’s not a bad law. But Stoick hates it now. That law is supposed to protect Asa, but now it’s only acting as another cage. He can’t do anything to Spitelout without breaking his own laws. 

"He must have had a reason," Gobber cuts in, sounding as angry as Stoick feels. Stoick doesn’t turn to face his friend. 

Spitelout glares at Gobber again. "Only whatever fantasy he wove in his mind. That boy is a disgrace, and he’ll only disgrace himself further." He looks to Stoick again, looking him in the eye. "It would be in the interests of Berk to exile him." 

Stoick takes a deep breath, trying to calm the emotions roiling inside him. He has to take a moment to recall the proper words. He's said them so many times before, to another family, but this is different, he knows. The Hoarksons disown each other every other week, once a month if Stoick is lucky. They never truly mean it and Spitelout has made it very clear just how shameful he finds that behavior. 

Stoick takes another deep breath, the words coming to him again. He doesn’t want to say them out loud. He knows the answer already, but he has to do it. It's part of the process. Stoick stands a little taller and says with authority, "Spitelout Jorgenson." The tone makes Spitelout straighten up a little bit. He looks like a good soldier and Stoick hates him for it. "You were witnessed earlier tonight disowning your son, Snotlout Jorgenson." He pauses. Spitelout looks almost giddy. He forces himself to continue. "As chief of Berk, I am obliged to ask you if you uphold or recant."

The corners of Spitelout's mouth turn up, but he doesn't let too much emotion show. "Uphold," he states, firm and final. Asa chokes back a sob. Stoick spares her a  glance. She looks devastated, but she won’t speak out against her husband. His heart breaks for her. She’s losing her son, and she can’t say a damn thing about it. 

Stoick closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. He does it three times before focusing his attention on Spitelout again, who still looks far too pleased at disowning his son. "Then Snotlout Jorgenson is no more. The council will meet first thing tomorrow for my ruling on the one called Snotlout."

Asa can’t control the sob that breaks from her. Spitelout’s face falters, showing anger at the noise, but he doesn’t say a word. He won’t, not with them still standing in his house. Again, it takes everything Stoick has not to collect her and run. "See you in the morning, Jorgenson," Stoick nods.

"Good night, Chief," Spitelout responds, nodding as well.

Stoick turns and looks at Gobber. He looks torn between heartbroken and angry. Stoick knows the feeling. It’s stifling and frustrating because he knows that there’s nothing he can do, and he’s so close. He motions for Gobber to leave. Gobber stares at Stoick for a moment, defiance in his eyes. Stoick hopes that Gobber doesn’t make a scene. There’s nothing they can  _ do _ right now. Then the defiance drains away, and he turns away. Stoick follows him out of the house.

Stoick knows that Gobber is upset, but he can’t be concerned with that right now. He has to find Snotlout as soon as he can. The person in question needs to be present at the official sentence, or he’ll be labelled a rogue Viking and have a bounty placed on him. Stoick looks to the sky and curses the late hour. Dragon’s Edge is far enough from Berk that he’ll have to leave right now to make it back in time for the meeting. "Gobber," Stoick says as he picks up his pace. 

Gobber jogs to keep up beside him. "Yes, Chief?" 

"I need you to get Grump, or any dragon, and start for the Edge tonight. I’ll send a Terror Mail for Snotlout. He has to be at the meeting in the morning," Stoick informs him, eyes scanning for any dragon that Gobber may commandeer.

"Aye, Chief." 

"Wait," Stoick says, stopping in place and putting a hand to Gobber’s chest, to stop him before he branches off to get Grump. Gobber still doesn’t look happy, but his face is open to orders. That’s all Stoick can really hope for. "Take Skullcrusher. Come on." And he starts running towards his house. Gobber limps as fast as he can behind Stoick, his uneven steps landing heavily. 

The house isn’t too far, but he puts a fair bit of distance between himself and Gobber when he finally bursts through the front door. Stoick stops in the doorframe, shocked to see Hiccup, Fishlegs, and Snotlout in the middle of his living area, close to the fire with blankets tossed over their shoulders. "Hiccup!" Stoick says, because that’s the first thing that he can think to say.

"Dad!" Hiccup responds, jumping to his feet and rushing into his father’s arms. Stoick barely takes a moment to wrap his arms around Hiccup, hand cradling the back of Hiccup’s head, holding him close. Something inside him eases when he recognizes that his son is safe in his arms. He’s safe and whole and  _ here _ . He squeezes Hiccup tighter, needing to convey how much he cares for him without saying it out loud. He has chief things he must do first. 

"What has ya stopped, Stoick?" Gobber asks, out of breath behind him. He takes another gulp of air. "Time is of the essence." 

Stoick has to chuckle. He does fill the whole doorway, and there’s no way Hiccup’s arms can wrap all the way around his middle, so Gobber can’t see the boys. He releases Hiccup and steps back, turning to Gobber. Gobber’s mouth drops when he sees Hiccup. "Hiccup? What are you doing here? Need help at the Edge?" 

Hiccup smiles and shakes his head. "The Edge is fine. I’m here with Snotlout." 

Mention of Snotlout snaps Stoick back into chief mode. He looks into the house and sees Snotlout watching them, heartbreak in his eyes. "Snotlout," Stoick says, eyes locked on the boy. He steps away from the doorway and immediately trips over a tail. 

Hookfang snarls at Stoick, slapping him with his tail on the side of his head. Stoick is shocked at the contact, hand going up to catch his helmet automatically. "Hey!" snaps Hiccup. Hookfang subsides moodily. "Sorry, Dad," Hiccup apologizes, giving him a wide-eyed look. Only now does Stoick realize that his house is stuffed full with Riders and their dragons. Fishlegs is sitting with Snotlout next to the fire, Hookfang behind them, still grumbling, Meatlug in the corner, lying down, eyes locked on Fishlegs and Snotlout, and Toothless a moving shadow around the outskirts of the room. Even Skullcrusher is tucked away somewhere. How the Hel did they all fit? How is his house still standing? 

Stoick sputters, partly from the unexpected attack and partly because of the small giggles he hears from the boys. He can’t begrudge them the amusement. The hit didn’t even hurt, and Hookfang has to be on edge after everything that’s happened today. "It’s okay, Hiccup," he waves Hiccup off. Then he looks for Hookfang. "Sorry there, Hookfang. I’ll watch where I’m walking." Then he looks at the floor, on the lookout for anymore wayward appendages. 

Gobber steps into the space Stoick left and whistles, impressed. "How did everyone manage to fit in here? Can’t stretch without hitting someone in the face." 

"We needed to be a little closer," Hiccup says. Stoick dares a glance away from the floor. Hiccup smiles warmly. "We made it work." 

Stoick feels a swell of pride in his chest. He’ll make sure to tell Hiccup how proud he is later; right now, he needs to speak with Snotlout. Snotlout is looking up at him with wide eyes, blanket clutched tightly around him, and Fishlegs has an arm over his shoulders. Fishlegs offers Stoick a weak smile, the smile not reaching his eyes, and stays silent. "How are you doing, son?" Stoick asks, sitting on the floor next to Snotlout.

Snotlout’s eyes fill with tears immediately. Stoick jerks back, unsure how else to react to such a blatant show of emotion from a Jorgenson. "Please save my ma. Please, Stoick," he begs, tears falling down his face. "She’s not safe." 

Stoick’s heart twists in his chest and he feels his eyes prick. "I’m sorry." It’s all he can offer Snotlout in this moment. There really is nothing that Stoick can do for Asa.

Snotlout hides his face in his hands and sobs. Stoick looks to the others in the room. The others look as shocked as Stoick feels at seeing Snotlout so open, expect for Hookfang, who looks torn between anger and the desperate need to take Snotlout away from here. It’s probably the lack of space that keeps Hookfang from moving. 

Stoick puts his hand on Snotlout’s head, a poor offer at comfort, but that’s about all he can think of to try and help. He can’t do anything for Snotlout right now and he’s not used to seeing Snotlout so raw. It aso breaks his heart to see how someone who cares so much has been under Spitelout’s thumb for so long. 

In a sudden burst of movement, Snotlout curls into Stoick’s chest. It takes Stoick a bit longer than he did with Hiccup to wrap his arms around the boy. But once he gets his arms around Snotlout, he holds him tightly. If this is something he can do for Snotlout, he will. He hates feeling so powerless to do anything but offer Snotlout a place to cry. 

Hiccup is at Stoick’s side in the next moment and he rubs a hand over Snotlout’s head before dropping to one knee and wrapping himself around Snotlout, too. Slowly, everyone else joins in. Even the dragons try, as best they can. "I’m sorry, son," Stoick whispers. 

And Snotlout cries. 

No one dares to try to stop him. 

They continue to sit like that until Snotlout starts to compose himself. Stoick doesn’t know how much times as passed, but Snotlout pulls back first, wiping at his face. It’s bright red. The group untangles from each other, somehow, and they back away, giving Snotlout space to collect himself. He won’t look up, pulling the blanket tightly around his shoulders. Fishlegs is the only one who stays close, putting a hand on Snotlout’s knee for support. 

"I know this is a bad time, but I have to talk to you about what’s going to happen tomorrow," Stoick tells him gently, hating that he has to do this. He shouldn’t have to talk politics and exile when he should allow Snotlout time to grieve. 

Snotlout sniffles loudly, eyes still locked on the ground. "Hiccup already told me," he says, voice choked.

"Okay. So you know about the meeting," Stoick looks at Hiccup, who nods. He looks back to Snotlout. "But I talked to your father tonight, too… he’s already disowned you." 

Snotlout chokes, but doesn’t cry. Fishlegs wraps an arm around him again and starts to shush and rock him. A hand rests on Stoick’s shoulder, drawing his attention. "Can I talk to you outside?" asks Hiccup. 

Stoick nods and stands. They head outside without a word. Gobber moves further into the house, into the kitchen area, probably to make something for everyone to eat. Stoick exits the house first. Hiccup follows a few steps behind and before the door can close, a shadow with green eyes slinks out next to Hiccup, sticking close to him. It’s already dark outside, he can barely see Hiccup’s face, but he swears he can see Hiccup smile at the shadow. 

Hiccup pets Toothless for a few moments, as if collecting himself. Stoick waits, watching the two interact, and thinking about the impossible scenario where he would disown his only son. A pang of regret stabs through him because… technically, he has disowned Hiccup before. After their fight when Hiccup failed the last test for his Dragon Training. A chief has to check whenever someone disowns their child, but there is no one with authority to check with the chief. So those who aren’t chief tend to say that they disown their children in fits of anger. Stoick saying it isn’t like  the Hoarksons saying it.

The fact of the matter is, if someone other than himself and Hiccup had witnessed that moment, HIccup would have been disowned and most likely exiled as the former Hope and Heir of Berk. A chief wouldn’t disown their own successor without due cause. “I’m sorry, Hiccup,” Stoick chokes out, knowing that this apology is long overdue. 

It speaks of Hiccup’s gentle nature when he gives Stoick a confused look and asks, “For what?”

“For getting so angry at you, all those years ago… before the Red Death.” 

Hiccup’s shoulders push back as he stands up straight, obviously not expecting Stoick’s apology. There’s a weak smile on Hiccup’s face, hardly seen in the dark, but Stoick can hear it in his voice. “What are you talking about? That was so long ago, Dad. Water under the bridge.”

“Is it?” Stoick asks. “How do you know so much about the process of disownment?”

Hiccup looks at the ground. “I’m  _ supposed _ to be the next chief. I’m supposed to know our laws.” 

“Hiccup, you’ve been avoiding your lessons since before you could talk. In our history, there have only been three people disowned by their families. It’s not something that would come about naturally. I know I learned about it when my father had to go through the process with Hosvir Ornsson, and  he had to explain it to me.” 

There’s a couple moments of silence then Hiccup crosses his arms over his chest. “So?”

Stoick’s heart breaks. “I should have apologized to you years ago, as soon as you woke up, before then even. I know it’s late, but you have to know I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart.”

Hiccup continues to stare at the ground, Toothless nudging at him and cooing worriedly. He doesn’t even pet Toothless’ head, keeping his arms tight around his middle. Stoick wonders if he’s ruined something. Toothless nudges Hiccup a little harder, forcing his attention to him. “Stop that,” Hiccup whispers. Toothless makes a noise and nudges Hiccup’s arms. “I know…”

Stoick waits. He has to wait. He deserves to live in this uncertainty. Then Hiccup says, "Is there really nothing you can do about Snotlout’s mom?" His voice is small. He’s still looking at Toothless instead of at Stoick.

Stoick sighs and it feels like a weight has been put directly on his heart. "No. And Spitelout has every right to protect her." Hiccup still won’t look at him. "I can’t do anything without breaking our laws."

Hiccup scoffs. "Spitelout protect her? What a load of dragon dung. Spitelout should be put down."

Stoick aches for his son. Hiccup, even though he’s never said so, has always looked covetously upon children with mothers. Stoick has seen it. He notices how Hiccup watches the love and devotion in a mother’s eyes and the longing that filled that little boy, always too small and fragile. Stoick has tried his best to give Hiccup that love, but he’s no Valka. Stoick has to guess that Hiccup is filled with pain at seeing someone torn from his mother, even someone like Snotlout. He wants to agree with Hiccup, but he can’t. Not out loud at least. He can’t agree with someone’s death, not without legal cause. Not as chief.  He wants to wrap Hiccup in his arms again, offer any support that he can, but Toothless is already there, nuzzling and cooing at Hiccup and easing that pain. "Is that what you wanted to discuss?" Stoick asks. 

"No," Hiccup sighs, shaking his head. He rubs behind Toothless’ ear flaps, a sad look on his face. "What’s going to happen to Snotlout?" His voice is quiet, and maybe a little scared. 

Isn’t that the question of the night? "I don’t know," Stoick admits, wishing that he could give a better answer. "Snotlout doesn’t have a family anymore." 

Hiccup’s attention snaps to him, eyes flashing with something like fire. "Snotlout has a family," he says firmly. "He’s not alone." 

Stoick has a moment where he can see Valka in their son. Hiccup has the look she had, the one that meant she was going to do something and there wouldn’t be a force in the world that could stop her. It warms and breaks Stoick’s heart to see it. "I know," he concedes, swallowing back tears. "I mean that he has no family name. And Spitelout could petition to take his given name, too." 

Hiccup’s face doesn’t change. "What are you going to do?" 

"He belongs to the Hooligans," Stoick says without hesitation, fist resting over his heart. "He will not be exiled." 

Hiccup’s shoulders relax, but there’s something in his eyes. Stoick can’t explain it. "And among the Hooligans?" 

"I don’t know yet." 

Hiccup sighs and looks up at the star-filled sky, absently scratching at Toothless’ head. "Whatever happens," he says, not looking away from the sky, "whatever Snotlout is called… he is still blood." He looks at Toothless, fondness filling his voice. "And I will consider him kin, always." 

Stoick’s throat tightens. He’s never felt more proud of his son before, never been more proud that Hiccup is his legacy. Hiccup looks at Stoick, smiling. "Get some rest tonight, Dad. I’m guessing morning will come too fast."

"It will. And you take care of yourself too," Stoick reponds, smiling back. His smile turns sad as he looks back toward the house. "And take care of him tonight, too." 

He sees Hiccup nod out of the corner of his eye. It’s really all he can ask of Hiccup tonight. Hiccup turns to the house and heads back inside, Toothless following after staring at Stoick for a moment. He wonders what the dragon is thinking about all this. Does he understand? Hiccup stops in the doorway, Toothless almost bumping into Hiccup’s back at the sudden stop. “Hey, Dad,” Hiccup says, looking at the ground.

Stoick’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Yes, son?”

Hiccup looks over his shoulder, Toothless mimicking the movement. “I forgave you,” Stoick’s breath catches, “a long time ago.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Stoick says without thinking, surprised by how true it feels.

Hiccup smiles. “That’s for me to decide, don’t you think?” Stoick huffs out a laugh, despite himself. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Hiccup.” Toothless makes a pleased noise at the exchange, Hiccup’s hand petting over his head. He leans into the touch, purring. Hiccup offers another small smile and disappears inside.

Stoick sighs and looks to the sky, finding the moon. His heart clenches in his chest. "I wish you were here, Val," he whispers to the moon, a small prayer. "You’d know exactly what to do." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, again!
> 
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was finished a lot faster than usual. Only this story today, sorry everyone. It's the only one that is ready to be shared! 
> 
> I don't think there are any tags that need to be added! some legal stuff going on here! 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Morning does come too quickly and Stoick didn’t get the best sleep. It wasn’t just the thoughts about what he has to do about Snotlout that kept him up, it was the fact that his house was boiling hot, stuffed to the brim and then some with four dragons and four Viking men. And someone snores. 

Three pairs of tired eyes found Stoick when he dragged himself from his room earlier this morning. The boys looked exhausted and exasperated, Gobber still fast asleep in one of the chairs, his mouth hanging open and snoring worse than a Gronckle with a head cold. Stoick definitely felt himself glaring at his best friend, annoyed that he could rest so deeply when Stoick couldn’t sleep a wink. His attention wasn’t on Gobber for long, turning to the riders still in his living room. Hiccup looked stiff, like he might have spent the night on the floor in an uncomfortable position. Fishlegs’ eyes only seemed to be open through sheer nervous will. Snotlout looked like he hadn’t slept at all. 

A swift kick to Gobber to wake him up and they are all stumbling out of the house. Any other day, it would be comical to see the volume of Viking and dragon that filed out of the house, but it’s not any other day. Today is a day unprecedented for Berk. At least for Stoick’s tenure as chief. 

Most of the council members are already at the Great Hall when Stoick and the others approach. Stoick has a moment of guilt and panic because, with everything that happened, he forgot to notify the members of this meeting. Although, thanks to gossip, most of the men appear to know to show up. There are a couple of men still missing, Spitelout being one of them. Stoick isn’t sure how he feels about that. 

Stoick approaches the men gathered so far, greeting them. There’s an air of solemnity over them. None of the men look excited to be meeting this morning. Gobber stays with Stoick, by his side, trying to lighten the mood but only succeeding a little bit. The boys and their dragons take over a table and wait for the meeting to be called. 

Despite Gobber’s best efforts, the atmosphere stays dark and heavy. Barely anyone is speaking and, if they are, it appears to be mumbles and one-word responses. Everyone jumps when the door bangs open, a jovial whistling carrying through the air. Spitelout. He’s sauntering into the hall, whistling. His disregard for the atmosphere around him would be shocking, if it weren’t for his wife trailing behind him. Asa has her eyes stuck to the floor, her shoulders around her ears.

Beneath Spitelout’s infernal whistling, Stoick can hear Snotlout say, “Ma” in a broken voice. And if that doesn’t shatter his heart just a little bit more… 

Spitelout approaches the council, a bounce in his step and a smile on his face, and claps his hands together loudly. “Let’s get this started!” 

Gobber growls at him and Stoick glares. The other men look less than impressed with Spitelout’s demeanor as well. “We’re still waiting for the whole council,” Gobber spits. “I’m sure you can count.” 

Spitelout’s face darkens at the insult and only then does Stoick notice the dark bruise that covers half of Spitelout’s face. Stoick does not chuckle at the sight of it, even though he does feel amused. Spitelout must sense something because he sends a glare towards Stoick. The bruise is massive and dark, impossible to hide, and easy to see that it was caused by someone getting a good hit in. Spitelout’s jovality made it unnoticeable for a bit. Stoick feels a swell of pride on behalf of his best friend. 

Before Spitelout can respond to Gobber’s comment, the last councilman shows up, apologizing for being so late. Stoick waves his apologies off, used to him always being late and also not wanting to give Spitelout any reason to gripe about what’s going to happen next. “Now that we’re all present, we can get started,” Stoick says, projecting his voice; it echoes through the Hall. Any chatter cuts off immediately, leaving the Hall silent. 

Stoick clears his throat and takes a step away from the men, so he can see every one of them and also make sure to include anyone witnessing this exchange. “Today, the council will observe the disownment of the Viking formerly known as Snotlout Jorgenson.” This time the silence is heavy. “As chief,” Stoick continues, “I have accepted the disownment from the Jorgenson clan, as it is Spitelout’s right as Jorgenson-Patriarch to do so.” He looks to Spitelout, the next words he has to say heavy on his tongue. “His family name has been officially stripped from him.” There’s a choked-off noise. Stoick doesn’t look, but he’s pretty sure it came from Snotlout, or at least the direction the boys are in. “Do ye petition for his given name as well?”

Spitelout swells up, like he’s proud, and Stoick wishes he could throw him off a cliff. A smile tugs at the corners of Spitelout’s mouth as he gives a side-eye to his wife. “Not his given name, chief, as my wife,” she whimpers at being called out, “has a fondness for it and I do not wish to be burdened with another Snotlout.” Stoick spares the poor woman a glance and her eyes are wet. She’s partly looking up, mostly paying attention to Spitelout. Her eyes are pleading. Stoick feels sick to his stomach.

He nods, chest heavy. “Very well.” He turns to the other men of the council, who watch him with wide, unsure eyes. Stoick knows, in this moment, they are only following him out of loyalty. Only following him because they trust that he knows what he’s doing. “Other council members, we now observe the one called only Snotlout. May he come forward.” With that, Stoick turns from the men and stands in line. Spitelout stays off to the side, watching with cold, amused eyes. 

Snotlout steps to the center of the room, shuffling his feet, stopping when he’s in front of every member of the council, including his former father. Stoick can’t think of a time that Snotlout has ever looked so small and scared. He hates Spitelout for making Snotlout go through this. Hel, he hates himself for needing to make Snotlout go through this process, this humiliation. 

Hiccup is standing a couple of paces away from Snotlout, his arms crossed over his chest and his face hard. It’s a familiar look on Hiccup’s face whenever he’s been summoned in front of the council. Stoick hates that look. Stoick has to take another deep breath before he speaks again. “Spitelout Jorgenson,” and if that isn’t another insult directly to Snotlout’s pride, using his old family name for someone who does not deserve it, “do ye petition for exile?” 

There’s a concerned murmur from the men, but no one speaks out. “Aye,” Spitelout says, relishing in it. Asa finally looks down, covering her eyes with her hands, her shoulders shaking, but still obediently silent. 

“Your reasons?” Stoick asks.

“Snotlout is a miserable whelp that never respected the chain of command, nor respected his elders. He tried to steal my wife from my home and then assaulted me when I interfered.” He holds up a bandaged hand to show the council. “I chased him out, but I knew that having Snotlout around would be bad for my family name and I can only argue that it would be the same reason for why: he’s a danger to Berk, to her reputation. It would do only harm to keep him here.” 

Stoick looks to the other men. They’re looking between Snotlout and Spitelout with furrowed brows. Snotlout looks like he’s having trouble staying upright, his knees shaking underneath him and his face pale. Even if Stoick didn’t know the truth, Snotlout doesn’t look like he’s in any condition to be a danger to Spitelout, who, despite the bruise on his face and wrapped hand, is in perfect health. Normally, Stoick would ask more questions, but he doesn’t want to give Spitelout anymore of a platform to spew his poison. The council doesn’t seem to buy what he’s trying to sell them.

“Men,” Stoick says, clearing his throat, “the reasons have been heard for Snotlout.” He makes sure to make eye contact with each man. “If anyone but the Jorgenson-Patriarch has a reason for exile, let him speak now.”

Silence. 

Spitelout’s face grows thunderous the longer that no one speaks. Stoick knows it’s cruel to wait, but he must, to allow the men a chance to speak. He also takes a certain amount of pleasure in the fact that Spitelout is not getting his way. Although he could do without Snotlout shaking under the scrutiny. There’s nothing he can do about that. Disownment is meant to be a humiliating punishment, a public showcase of one’s failure to be part of the tribe. He’s never seen a disownment as vindictive as Spitelout’s before. The only ones he’s witnessed have all been for the safety of Berk as a whole. This is not that, not even a parody of that. 

“If there are no reasons,” Stoick speaks, Gobber letting out a long breath of air next to him, “let’s take a moment to consider if Snotlout’s crime is enough to have him exiled, stripped of his place in the Hooligan tribe, and we’ll put it to a vote. All those in favor of exile, say ‘aye.’”

Spitelout raises his hand with fervor, saying “Aye” with such certainty that it’s almost embarrassing. He’s the only one. The look on his face when he realizes he is the only one speaking is murderous. 

“And those opposed?” Stoick asks. The entire council, including himself and Gobber, raise their hands. Now Stoick lets out a breath of relief. “Than I, Stoick the Vast, Chief of the Hooligan Tribe, keep the Viking called Snotlout as one of us.” 

Fishlegs exhales heavily, like he might have been holding his breath, and Snotlout’s knees give out under him. Hiccup is at his side in an instant to help him stay on his feet. Snotlout’s breathing heavily, sounding like he may cry at any moment. Hiccup moves around Snotlout, looking like he’s going to direct Snotlout to sit somewhere, but an idea hits Stoick. He calls out to his son, “Hold on a minute, Hiccup.” 

Hiccup stops, eyes wide, and Stoick looks to the other men. They are all watching with bated breath, except for Spitelout, who is fuming, but looking slowly hopeful at Stoick’s call. Stoick is the chief after all, he only has the council to counsel him. He could still exile Snotlout despite a majority vote. Asa, just to Spitelout’s side, looked worriedly relieved at her chief. She’s watching him with hopeful, pleading eyes and everything clicks into place for Stoick. He hopes that Hiccup isn’t going to be upset with what he’s going to do. 

“Men,” he says, stepping forward and standing between the council and Snotlout and Hiccup, “I present myself to you as Stoick Haddock, a Berkian and a father.” Hiccup’s breath catches. Stoick has to believe it’s because he’s pleased. “I petition to adopt the one called Snotlout into the Haddock family.” It’s an odd rule: as chief, Stoick can’t approve or deny his own adoptions. That, for some reason, is left to the discretion of the council.

Gobber steps forward, taking control of the meeting with ease. “You heard the petition from Stoick. Are there any objections?”

“Aye!” says Spitelout, slamming his hand onto the table. Asa jumps at the sudden noise and Stoick hates Spitelout for that. “This boy is a disgrace and should have been sent to Outcast Island!” 

Gobber rolls his eyes. “We’ve already discussed exile, and that’s been dealt with. Anything else?”

“You can’t take him!” Spitelout argues, face turning bright red.

“And why not, Spitelout?” Stoick asks, calm. “Snotlout is no longer your son. And I happen to think Snotlout is a brave, honorable Viking, and I would be proud to call him a Haddock.” 

Spitelout stammers, unable to form words with how badly he’s shaking. If looks could kill, Stoick would be dead three times over. “You– you–”

Gobber ignores the outburst, much too pleased with how idiotic Spitelout is acting. “All willing to grant Stoick’s petition?” Every hand is raised, except for Spitelout’s and Stoick’s, as Stoick is not allowed to vote on this petition for himself. “Aye, good,” Gobber says, looking at all the men. His smile turns outward, past Stoick. Stoick turns and Snotlout is watching him with wide eyes. “And, Snotlout,” Gobber says behind him, “do you approve of this petition?” 

Snotlout nods quickly, “Aye.” He looks a little dazed.

“And Hiccup?” Gobber continues. “As the next Haddock-Patriarch, what d’ye say?”

Hiccup’s smile is luminous and he doesn’t look away from his father, pride in his eyes. “Aye.”

Stoick nods in thanks to his son, who nods back, and turns to face the council again. Gobber’s face is split into a wide smile and he throws his hand and hook into the air. “The ‘aye’s’ have it! The Viking called Snotlout shall be known henceforth as Snotlout Haddock!” And he cheers. 

Everyone but Spitelout joins him in cheer, even the dragons, who set off a blast or two in celebration despite the fact they aren’t supposed to. Stoick isn’t upset though: nothing has caught on fire, although he notices Toothless smacking Hookfang on the nose when his scales are starting to look a little too warm. Spitelout storms out of the hall, dragging his wife by the elbow. Snotlout watches his former parents leave with sad eyes, even though Stoick knows that Snotlout is happy now. Asa is looking straight at him, gratitude in her eyes. And Stoick swears he can see her mouth ‘thank you’ before she’s fully gone. Something heavy settles in his gut. He wishes he could do more for her.

He’s knocked out of his thoughts by Gobber, who hits him on the arm and congratulates him with a loud voice. Stoick smiles and shakes his hand, then follows suit with all the other men. He thanks them all for granting his petition and the men respond with pride and humility, congratulating  Stoick on his plan. He doesn’t tell them he didn’t plan to adopt Snotlout. He takes their compliments with a smile and then moves to give a hug to his new son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome! I hope y'all enjoyed! 
> 
> Follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) [@_Thursday_26] to get more real-time updates on how slowly im working on everything! lol


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stoick brings his boys home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this has been a long time coming. If you follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) , you'll have seen that I have a plan of attack for hopefully getting stuff out in a more timely manner. I haven't specified what that is yet, but know that it is in motion!
> 
> Sorry it took so long guys! but now that part one of Dragon Fights is out, I can focus on my other stuff more! 
> 
> I really hop you guys like this chapter! Again, sorry for the delay! Hope you enjoy!

Stoick wraps his arms around his new son, holding him close. He holds Snotlout close for a few moments, just them, then he pulls Hiccup into the hug as well. He’s beaming from the inside out because now he has two boys to be proud of. This feels like the right thing to do; this feels exactly like what Valka would want him to do, short of tossing her brother into a volcano. 

Then he notices that, even though Snotlout is smiling, he’s cringing in pain. That doesn’t make any sense, since he’s not holding onto his boys too tightly. Hiccup isn’t even wincing. Stoick loosens his hold on them and really looks at Snotlout, a small smile still on his face, but not as bright as before. Despite his smile, Snotlout still looks pale, like he’s been sick for a while. 

Stoick wants to ask him about it, but he won’t in the Hall. They are still surrounded by people and it’s none of their business. Stoick widens his grin and squeezes Hiccup’s and Snotlout’s shoulders, one in each hand, and says, “Come on, boys. Let’s go have some breakfast.” No-one was in the mood for food when they woke up, so he knows that they should be starting to get hungry now. The boys nod happily, Snotlout’s eyes darting to the side. Stoick follows the movement and sees Fishlegs standing just out of reach, hovering awkwardly, but happy. Fishlegs gives Stoick a grateful look and he nods, smile still on his face. “You too, Fishlegs.” 

Fishlegs relaxes, but Gobber pipes up before he can respond. “Great!” he chirps, suddenly at Stoick’s side, an arm thrown over his shoulder. “I’ll cook!” 

That draws a chuckle out of the group. Stoick is grateful. The group leaves together. They seem to be in good spirits, Hiccup and Fishlegs chatting animatedly with one another while Snotlout walks between them with a small smile on his face. Stoick isn’t part of the conversation, still thinking, although he’s smiling. He’s happy for how the morning turned out, victories are victories, but there’s something not adding up here and he needs to know what it is. 

The dragons follow behind the group, chattering between themselves, their own moods light. Even Hookfang seems a little softer than usual, moving more fluidly than he was this morning. Meatlug is hopping along, legs too short to keep up with Hookfang’s strides, while Toothless bounds to keep pace. The dragons easily outpace them, caught up in their own conversation.  Stoick stops walking for a second. Gobber stops too, but Stoick nods at him. "Go on, I'll catch up." Gobber nods with easy familiarity and stumps on after the boys. Stoick just stands there for a moment, observing them. Hiccup has his head bowed and he’s saying something to Snotlout while Fishlegs is walking easily beside him. Hiccup and Snotlout snigger about something. Stoick’s heart warms at the scene. He’s a little shocked when an arm brushes against his again: Gobber has fallen into step next to him, offering his own small smile. “You did good today, Stoick,” he says loud enough for only Stoick to hear. 

Stoick smiles, ducking his head. “Thank you, Gobber.” He looks back to the group of boys. “Should’ve done it a long time ago.” 

“Eh,” Gobber shrugs. “All that matters is that ya did.” 

He stops Stoick with a hand to his arm. They aren’t far from the Haddock House, the dragons already sitting casually in the sun off the path to the front door. The boys aren’t too far from the house, but they veer off to head towards their dragons, of course. Toothless jumps to his feet and eagerly nuzzles into Hiccup’s side. Stoick huffs out a laugh at the sight. Fishlegs stands next to Meatlug, leaning against her side and watching the other two. Her tail is wagging. “He’ll be okay, Stoick,” Gobber says. 

Stoick takes a moment to take that in, watching Snotlout. He’s stepping up to Hookfang and offers the Nightmare a pat on the snout. Hookfang pushes into the touch. “I hope so.” They continue their walk to the house, stopping a few steps away from the group. Stoick then remembers that the dragons probably haven’t eaten either. “Fishlegs,” he says, drawing everyone’s attention to him, “would you get some food for the dragons? They have to be getting hungry.” 

All the dragons perk up at the mention of food and turn to Fishlegs. Fishlegs chuckles, nodding, “Sure thing, Stoick. I’ll be back soon.” He scratches under Meatlug’s chin and wanders off the way they came. Stoick feels a little bad for remembering now when they’re back at the house, but Stoick doesn’t store enough food in the house to feed three extra dragons. Normally he’ll only keep enough for Skullcrusher and maybe stock up when he knows Hiccup is coming by, but Hiccup usually deals with Toothless’ meals. But, with so many extra dragons, Fishlegs will need to go to the storage area to collect the food. The dragons trail after him eagerly, even Toothless, who gives Hiccup a soft nuzzle before chasing off after his friends. 

Hiccup laughs and it brings a smile to Stoick’s face. He leads the way into the house, the others trailing after him. Stoick moves to the hook where he stores his helmet and hangs it up, taking a moment to watch what everyone else does. Hiccup moves to the fireplace, disturbing the still-warm embers with a poker and adding some wood to give them some heat. It isn’t long before there’s a small fire. Snotlout sits on the floor where he was the night before, grabbing the blanket that no one bothered to put away, and wraps it around his shoulders. Gobber shuffles off to the kitchen, humming to himself. 

Stoick watches them all move around, all of them free from worry, and hesitates. He still has questions, but he doesn’t want to break the serenity that they’ve found. But he needs to know, not as a chief, but as a father. Something was off with Snotlout in the Hall, and he doesn’t have to stay silent about it anymore. Not now, not when Snotlout is his son.

Stoick clears his throat, drawing three sets of eyes to him. Gobber turns back to his food prep in a second, but the boys watch him with curiosity. He really hates that he’s going to break this peace. “So,” he says, casually, “when were you two going to tell me Snotlout was sick?” 

Hiccup and Snotlout freeze, Snotlout’s eyes going wide in fear while Hiccup tenses. Of all the responses, Stoick didn’t expect these. Or rather, he knew it was a possibility, he was just hoping that he wouldn’t get them. Hiccup moves first, shifting to a casual stance stiffly. It looks odd. “Dad,” he says and Stoick narrows his eyes at him, “don’t worry about it. He’s getting better.”

“He’s still in pain,” Stoick argues, but remembers that Snotlout is in the room too. He turns his attention to Snotlout, speaking to him directly. “You’re still in pain,” he says. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

Snotlout curls further into the blanket and looks at the floor. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles. 

Stoick doesn’t want to argue with Snotlout, but did he expect anything else? “Let’s say it didn’t matter  _ before _ , when I was only your chief,” he proposes, crossing his arms over his chest, “although I would still care, but now I’m your father as well. And I don’t want to, and don’t like, seeing you in pain. So how about you tell me what’s going on?”

Hiccup moves between Stoick and Snotlout, drawing his attention down, but not far. When did his fishbone of a son get so tall? He has his hands up. “Dad, it’s not a big deal. We’ve already dealt with it. He’s healing--” 

“Healing?” Stoick cuts him off, disbelief in his voice. He looks over Hiccup’s shoulder, attention snapping to Snotlout. “Who hurt you?” He can’t believe this. Not even thirty minutes and these two are already keeping secrets from him. He’s really in for it with these two. 

Hiccup laughs, nervous and too loud, and Stoick  _ knows _ that the next words out of Hiccup’s mouth will be a lie. “J-Just a mission, Dad!” he half yells, voice going high and low randomly. He clears his throat. “You know how it is,” he tries to say casually, but he’s stiff again. “We lead dangerous lives and…” He trails off, mouth opening and closing like he’s run out of words to say. 

Stoick gives the boy a Look that tells Hiccup that he doesn’t believe him for a second. Hiccup smiles nervously for a moment, mouth opening and closing again a moment later. Still no words come. Okay, he’ll play along. “A mission, you say? Let’s see those injuries then. See if we need to go to Gothi.” He finishes his statement by looking at Snotlout. 

He’s shocked to see Snotlout’s face pale and the terror in his eyes. Hel, he’s not just shocked, but frightened to see such a reaction. He’s never known Snotlout to shy away from showing off a battle scar, and he’s never known him to be scared like this. “We don’t need Gothi!” Hiccup cuts in, jumping in front of Stoick again, drawing his attention away from Snotlout. “Fishlegs took care of anything medicinal we needed.” That part isn’t a lie. 

Stoick loves his son, but sometimes he wishes he could knock some sense into him. Snotlout looks like he’s still recovering from a fever, and that is dangerous to deal with without a trained healer present. Not that Fishlegs isn’t a good healer, he knows that Hiccup made sure that he had someone out there to help them if they ever got injured, but Fishlegs isn’t properly trained. Hiccup should have sent for Gothi or brought Snotlout straight to Berk at the first sign of fever, but he’ll deal with Hiccup later. That’s a conversation he can have in private with him.

He steps around Hiccup and settles on the ground next to Snotlout. “Let’s see your injuries,” he orders. A movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention. Gobber is standing as still as he can manage, watching them with worried eyes. Stoick hates seeing that look on his friend’s face: it usually means bad things. But he’s saying in the kitchen area, so Stoick turns his attention back to Snotlout. Snotlout looks terrified, but obeys, letting the blanket slip from his shoulders while he bites his lip. 

He turns away from Stoick and pulls up his shirt, exposing his back. Stoick reels at the bruised, welted, and scarred mess that makes up Snotlout’s back. It’s horrifying to think that this mess means that Snotlout is  _ healing. _ How much worse could these marks have been? He looks to Hiccup, wanting an explanation, but he’s looking at the floor, shoulders hunched up. “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?” Stoick demands, jumping to his feet. Snotlout flinches from him, the tunic falling back into place. He sits quietly, hands in his lap and eyes on the floor.

Hiccup looks up, guilt on his face. “Dad, please--”

“No, Hiccup,” Stoick cuts him off, pacing away from Snotlout. He needs to move. He rubs his hand over his head agitatedly, trying to process what he just saw. He pauses a few steps away from both boys. “You both knew and you didn’t tell me?!” he asks the room, looking back and forth between Hiccup and Snotlout. He hates that he’s burning with anger right now, but he can’t stifle it. “This is the sort of thing I should be told about!  _ Immediately! _ As your chief!” He takes a deep breath, but he can’t stop yelling. “I can’t allow this kind of behavior in my village! That is a crime!”  

Snotlout still hasn’t looked up, but Hiccup gives a pleading look. “Dad, I told you! It was a mission--” he tries.

But Stoick cuts him off again. “You’re a horrible liar, Hiccup. I know Snotlout didn’t get hurt on a mission, and the only reason I could think of you keeping this from me is if another Berkian did this to him, although I can’t understand why you would! This kind of person does not deserve your protection! This person has committed a  _ crime! _ ”

“Stoick,” Gobber jumps in, firm. 

“What?!” he snaps, turning to glare at Gobber. 

Gobber is glaring right back. Stoick’s anger falters in the face of it. Gobber nods his chin towards Snotlout, who is shaking and gripping onto his pants hard enough that his knuckles are starting to turn white.

The rest of his anger drains from him immediately. He doesn’t want to scare him. Neither of them. That’s what Spitelout did, and he can’t be like Spitelout. He takes a deep breath and moves to sit next to Snotlout again, heart breaking when Snotlout flinches from him.

It’s awkward, but Stoick is sure to sit further away from him, giving Snotlout a few inches of space. Stoick doesn’t want to crowd Snotlout, especially when he’s already so scared. Snotlout keeps his staring contest with the floor and Stoick waits. He’s already said too much. He’ll wait for Snotlout to feel comfortable enough again. Although it kills him to see Snotlout shaking in fear. Because of him. 

It takes a few minutes of silence, but the shaking slowly stops then Snotlout looks up at Stoick, confused. “What’s on your mind?’ Stoick asks gently, much calmer than he felt before.

Snotlout’s eyes dart over Stoick’s shoulder, presumably to Hiccup, but he’s looking in Stoick’s eyes a moment later. He stares for a few moments, chin tense, like he’s trying to keep something from coming out of his mouth. Then, it cracks out. “Please don’t take my name, too.” 

“What?” Hiccup sputters. Stoick is glad that Hiccup managed to say something, because he can’t seem to get his mouth to work, and his heart is breaking in his chest. Poor Snotlout.

Now that he’s already spoken, Snotlout doesn’t seem to have an issue with talking some more. “I-I can’t do anything right… I’m already a mess up.. I can’t be a good son. It’s why my dad got rid of me…” The only other sound in the room is the crackling of the fire. Snotlout makes eye contact with Stoick and his eyes are shiny with unshed tears. “Please don’t get rid of me, too.”

“Snotlout,” Stoick gasps, unable to do much more.

Snotlout’s face crumples and he clutches onto Stoick’s arm desperately. “Please, I can do better. I can do it. Please don’t get rid of me,” he begs, tears rolling down his face.

What kind of man is Spitelout, reducing his own bloodkin to this? Stoick can get angry about that later, but right now he needs to assure Snotlout that he isn’t about to be tossed like last week’s mutton. Stoick lifts his arm, intending to pull Snotlout into a hug, but he flinches away from the movement. And if the flinch wasn’t heartbreaking enough, Snotlout seems to catch himself and forces himself to stay still, tears still falling down his face. He tenses up, like he’s preparing himself to be hit.

Stoick looks to the others in the room, hoping that someone else can explain what he’s witnessing, but Gobber only looks heartbroken and Hiccup is staring at the floor, looking all too much like a child that’s seen something he knows he wasn’t supposed to see. It looks like it’s up to him to decipher that’s happening here. “Did…” he tries, then clears his throat. “Did Spitelout hurt you?” Stoick asks.

“No,” Snotlout answers quickly. It doesn’t sound like he’s lying. Stoick racks his brain for any other possibility. Who else could deal this sort of damage? 

“Spitelout punished him,” Hiccup cuts in. Snotlout gives Hiccup such a look of betrayal. 

“What on Midgard could deserve such a punishment?” Stoick asks, unable to comprehend or conceive of a reason to maim his own son. An image of Hiccup’s back looking the same as Snotlout’s flashes in his mind and his stomach twists in disgust. 

“I-I… I was a disappointment,” Snotlout admits, voice low, eyes still downcast. “I embarrassed my father. I needed to be punished.” He looks up at Stoick, eyes wide and full of pain. “He was doing what any father would do.” 

Stoick’s lungs squeeze and his vision goes blurry. It feels like Snotlout wound up and hit Stoick as hard as he could. What sort of monster is Spitelout? What has been in his village? “No, no, Snotlout,” Stoick says, trying to put as much sincerity into his tone as he can. Snotlout looks confused. “No father should hurt his son like he’s hurt you.” Fresh tears pool in Snotlout’s eyes. “You should have told me sooner… I could have done something a lot sooner.” He settles in firmly, giving Snotlout a serious look. “Now that you’re my son, we can seek justice against Spitelout for how he’s treated you because the way he battered you is still affecting you.” 

There’s a small glimmer of hope in Snotlout’s eyes. “We can get Spitelout?” says Hiccup.

Stoick nods, “Aye, if Snotlout is willing to testify against him. And show the council the damage that he cause. He could be exiled.” There’s a glimmer of hope in Stoick’s chest. 

“What about Ma?” Snotlout asks. 

Like that, all that hope is gone. Stoick isn’t sure how many more times he can survive his heart breaking. There’s not much that he can do to help Asa unless she admits that a crime has been committed against her. As pig-headed and despicable as Spitelout is, he’s smart enough to keep his private life private. Stoick puts a hand on Snotlout’s shoulder in comfort. “I’m sorry, Snotlout.” He’s glad to see that Snotlout doesn’t flinch under the touch, but Stoick is close enough to see the hope in Snotlout’s eyes die. “Unless she wants to find her own justice, make her own accusations against Spitelout, there’s nothing I can do for her. All I can do is help  _ you.” _

“But what if Spitelout is exiled?” Hiccup asks. “Can’t she--”

Stoick shakes his head. “No, as his wife, he has every right to request that she go with him, unless he’s charged for a crime against her.” 

Snotlout is shaking his head. “No, I’m not. I can’t.” He takes a deep breath. “The only justice is saving Ma. I can’t--she can’t leave with him.” 

“I’m really sorry, Snotlout. I wish there was more that I could do for her,” Stoick says, “but all I can do is help you.” 

“I won’t. Not if she’s still in danger. She needs the help, not me,” Snotlout insists. Stoick’s heart squeezes.

“Stop thinking like that,” Hiccup orders, voice firm. The firmness has Stoick raising an eyebrow. Hiccup takes a couple steps closer. Snotlout is frowning at him. “Stop thinking that you aren’t worth helping! You are, Snotlout!” he half-yells, holding himself back. His face is turning red with the effort to keep himself from yelling. “Not just anyone can be a Haddock, and you belong  _ here.” _

Stoick nods in agreement. The decision to take Snotlout in may have been a quick decision, but it wasn’t one that was made lightly. “You are a Haddock now, and that means that we protect our own, we protect those we love. You belong here, Snotlout,” Stoick agrees. “And we want to help you.” 

Snotlout looks like he might cry again, but from being overwhelmed. Stoick pulls Snotlout into a hug, mindful of the injuries he still has. Snotlout curls into his chest, so much smaller than Stoick would expect from a Viking with such a big personality. Hiccup steps closer and Stoick drags him into the hug, too, both his boys in his arms. Both of them safe. He tightens his hold a little, trying not to hurt Snotlout, but probably being a little too rough. “You belong here, Snotlout,” Stoick whispers into the crown of Snotlout’s head. “We are  _ family _ and not even death will change that.” 

Hiccup’s arms tighten around him and he curls in closer. Snotlout does the same. “Thank you, Stoick…” he mumbles. 

Stoick closes his eyes, holding them close, rocking them a bit. He makes a silent vow to always protect these two, even at the cost of his life. That is what any father should be doing, not breaking his son’s skin. Then someone walks into the house, drawing Stoick’s attention. Fishlegs is standing in the doorway, wide eyes on the huddle near the fire. He looks back over his shoulder, like maybe he should leave, but Stoick chuckles. “Don’t rush out on us now,” he tells him, having mercy on him. He pulls himself from the hug, heart wrenching at the way Snotlout tugs at his shirt before he returns his hands to his lap. He keeps a shoulder on each boy’s shoulder and gives them a smile. “We will talk about this later, okay?”

Hiccup sighs and nods, already dreading the lecture he’s sure he’ll be getting later. Snotlout smiles and nods, looking more relaxed than he’s been all day. He turns a warm smile to Fishlegs as he comes into the house. Stoick lifts himself off the ground and ambles over to Gobber, who has gone back to preparing food and humming. Stoick knows he won’t be much help, but he doesn’t need to hover around the boys. Fishlegs talks about the dragons, mentioning some altercation that happened. Hiccup leans over Snotlout in interest, while Snotlout chimes in with something that has Fishlegs chuckling. Stoick isn’t sure what exactly they’re talking about, more than willing to leave them be for now.

He feels his shoulders relax as they all chat. Sure, he’s in for it with two stubborn, growing boys in his family now, but he knows that he did the right thing. That thought is only reinforced by Gobber squeezing his shoulder between tasks. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. 

The three Riders laugh about something and Stoick prays to Valka. He hopes she’s proud of him, wherever she may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and kudos if you can! I love them! I think maybe... 1? more chapter for this part then onto the final part for this series!! 
> 
> And follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) for more real-time information on what I'm doing and to call me out for always being late with my posting lol :)


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